It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like
by Seshat0120
Summary: A sequel to Fall to Earth, it's less than a week before Christmas and Thelma is coming to New Mexico to spend the holidays with Sam. He comes to the realization that his home is not ready to host his mother and drafts Al to assist him in the holiday prep
1. December 17, 1987

**It's Beginning to Look…**

_by Seshat0120_

_Disclaimer: Quantum Leap and all related characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and Universal. No profit has been made off of the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction._

**Thursday, December 17, 1987**

Al knocked gently on the open door before walking in. "Hey, you ready to get out of here?" he asked stepping into the room. Receiving no answer from the room's occupant, Al walked over to where he was sitting by the window. "Sam? You ready to go?" he asked again before noticing that Sam had fallen asleep sitting up in the chair. "Hey, Sam, wakey, wakey," he called out nudging the sleeping man's shoulder.

Sam's eyes snapped open at the touch of the older man. "Huh? Wha?'

"I asked if you were ready to go," Al repeated once again. "Dr. Stone's on his way in here with your discharge papers."

"I'm ready." Sam rubbed a hand over his face trying to dispel the lingering sleepiness and got up from the chair. He wobbled for a bit until his balance steadied. "I think I've had enough of hospitals to last me for a while."

Sam had come into the hospital that morning for surgical repair of the damage his shoulder had suffered in the plane crash three months prior. After some discussion, Sam and his doctor had agreed that the best option for him was an open Bankart repair. There was a newer, arthroscopic method being used but Dr. Stone had felt it best to go with the tried and true method. In his estimation, the open surgery provided a better repair. There was no change in how long Sam had to remain in the hospital since both forms of the surgery were done as day surgery under general anesthesia.

Sam took one, unsteady step in Al's direction and started to list heavily to his left. Al quickly put out a hand to steady him.

"Whoa, I don't think you're up to moving around much yet. It looks like you're still feeling the effects of the anesthesia." Al guided Sam back to the chair. "Let's just wait 'til they get in here with a wheelchair before you try moving around."

"Um, okay," Sam easily agreed sitting back down heavily.

"What did they give you anyway?" Al asked in wonder.

Sam shrugged his good shoulder. "I don't know. I think someone told me but I don't 'member." His eyes started to drift shut again before he finished talking.

"Don't go back to sleep now," Al said reinforcing his words with a nudge to Sam's shoulder. "Are you in a lot of pain right now?"

Sam had to think hard before he could answer Al's simple question. In all honesty, it looked more like he'd been asked to explain the theory of relativity to kindergartners instead of how much pain he was in. "To be honest, I'm not feeling much of anything right now."

Al let out a laugh. "I can see that."

Sam leaned his elbow on the arm of chair and propped his chin up on his hand. His eyes started to slide closed again and he opened them wide trying to force himself awake. It was a comical sight to see and Al had to fight back a laugh. "I guess it should hurt, but it doesn't." Sam's words were slightly slurred.

Another knock sounded on the door prompting Al to turn to see who was there. Dr. Stone stood in the doorway for a moment before coming into the room. "I see you're ready to go. The nurse should be right in with your transportation and you'll be free to leave us."

"That's nice," Sam answered. His attention was fixed on a spot on the floor and he barely glanced at Dr. Stone in recognition.

The doctor laughed softly and turned his attention to Al. "He'll be like this for the next couple of hours until the anesthesia is completely out of his system." He handed Al several sheets of paper. "Here's a copy of his post-op care. I went over it with him this morning before the surgery but in the event he doesn't remember, it's all in here. There's also a prescription for painkillers. He might not be feeling any pain now but he probably will in a few hours."

Al accepted the papers from Dr. Stone and flipped through them. "You mind going over the highlights with me?" he asked.

"The main thing right now is that he needs to keep that arm immobilized. He's going to need to use the sling constantly for the next two weeks. The only time it should be off is for him to dress and for hygiene purposes."

"How about at night when he's sleeping?" Al asked eyeing the sling that was supporting Sam's arm skeptically as well as the immobilizer that bound his arm to his chest. "That doesn't look like a very comfortable way to sleep."

"Unfortunately, it's not," Dr. Stone agreed. "It's necessary, though. He'll also need to keep using the immobilizer at night when he's sleeping to prevent any unconscious movement of his arm. Once he's a bit more coherent, he can go ahead and take it off while he's awake. He should make sure to move his elbow and wrist around when the sling's not on to prevent any stiffening in those joints."

"I'll make sure he knows that. Is there anything else?"

"No, that about covers the highlights for right now. If there's anything you or Sam have a question about later, feel free to contact the office. The procedure went well and I don't foresee him having any problems in the future as long as he follows the post-op care to the letter and sticks with the rehab. I'd say within about six months he'll have full mobility and strength back in his shoulder if he follows a careful rehab regimen."

"It doesn't hurt right now," Sam said interrupting the conversation between Al and Dr. Stone.

"No, I'm sure there isn't any pain right now," Dr. Stone agreed. "That probably won't be the case once all the drugs are out of your system."

Al looked at Sam skeptically. "You sure he's ready to leave, Doc? He looks like maybe he should stay a little longer."

"He may seem out of it right now, Admiral, but I can assure you, he's fit to go home. He shouldn't drive or operate any heavy machinery for at least the next 12 hours, though."

"You mean like the TV remote or coffee maker," Al joked.

Dr. Stone laughed again at Al's joke. "Exactly."

Sam attempted to join the conversation. "I like tea." The doctor and Al both began to laugh at Sam's pronouncement. "I do," Sam defended himself not quite understanding what was so funny. To his drug-numbed mind, Al and the doctor were laughing at him, not at what he'd said.

"Okay, Sam. You can't boil water then," Al said through his laughter to appease the confused man.

Once the laughter died down, Dr. Stone finished his instructions. "I should warn you, as the anesthesia leaves his system he might start to feel nauseated or complain of a headache. That's perfectly normal but if the headache is too intense or there's any prolonged vomiting, you should get him back here right away."

"Trust me, I will." Al assured Dr. Stone.

Dr. Stone smiled at Al's firm assurance that he'd bring Sam back to the hospital at the slightest sign of trouble. "An appointment has been set up for tomorrow so I can check his dressing. He shouldn't shower or get the surgical site wet until after that. Icing his shoulder will also help to control the pain and bring down any swelling."

As Dr. Stone was finishing his instructions, a nurse came in pushing an empty wheelchair. "Well, it looks like your ride's here, Sam," he said. He put out his hand to Sam. "I'll see you tomorrow. The Admiral has all the information you'll need but if there are any questions I want you to call the office."

"Ok," Sam genially answered. "Call you if I have questions."

The genial mood dissipated when Al started to help Sam into his coat. "I'm not cold. I don't need this," he protested trying to push the coat away.

"I know you're not cold now," Al began to patiently explain, "but it's kind of cold outside so let's just put it on already." He finished slipping the coat onto Sam's good arm and zipped it up before Sam could protest anymore. Sam attempted to pull the zipper down but his fingers were uncoordinated and he gave up.

With the assistance of Al and the nurse, Sam safely moved from the chair he was sitting in to the wheelchair with no mishaps.

"I can walk you know," he pointed out as the nurse wheeled him from the room.

"I know you can walk," Al agreed. "You can drive, too, but let's just hold off on both of those until you're not so loopy."

"You're making fun of me," Sam pouted. Al had to smother another laugh. He'd had no idea the strong drugs used for the general anesthesia would have this kind of effect.

"If the guys at MIT could see you now," Al muttered following the nurse out of the room. Behind him Dr. Stone began to laugh softly again.

Al was sitting on the couch in the living room reading when the noise reached his ears. Getting up he walked through Sam's bedroom to the master bath to check on the younger man and found him hunched over the toilet. Just as Al walked through the door, the rest of the soup Sam had eaten an hour before made a reappearance.

The first few hours Sam was home from the hospital had been relatively easy. He'd been content to lie on the couch napping as the anesthesia finished working its way out of his system. He hadn't experienced much pain and what little he did feel was alleviated by the use of the icepack Al offered him. As evening fell, Al suggested that he might be more comfortable in bed rather than lying on the sofa. Sam had agreed, retiring there after eating some soup that Al heated up for him.

"You doing okay?" Al asked kneeling beside the huddled form and resting a hand on the sweaty back.

"Been better. I think the gum I swallowed when I was a kid just made an appearance." Sam tried a smile but it didn't do much to hide how he was feeling. "Whatever they gave me, I don't think I ever want it again."

Sure that Sam was suffering from no more than the nausea and vomiting Dr. Stone had warned about, Al tried to lighten the mood. "That's not what you were saying earlier." He leaned over to flush the toilet before getting up to get a glass of water that he handed over to Sam. "Wanna go back to bed?" he asked once Sam had rinsed his mouth out.

Sam sighed softly and mulled over the question. "No. It's too much like work if I have to come back." He sat so that the corner formed by the bathtub and the wall braced his back. That's when he saw them hiding on the floor under the vanity and the sight of them nearly brought on another bought of vomiting.

"What? What's wrong?" Al asked alarmed when Sam's face seemed to turn a shade whiter. He tried to follow Sam's line of sight to see what he'd fixated on but saw nothing out of the ordinary beyond a few stray dust bunnies.

"My mother's coming on Tuesday," Sam flatly stated still staring at the dust bunnies.

"I know that," Al answered deciding that humoring Sam might be the best way to find out just what was wrong. "Why's that got you so worked up and sounding like it's the end of the world? I thought you'd be happy to see her."

Sam started to gaze around the small room they were in noticing, as if for the first time, just how bad it looked. In a corner, the hamper overflowed, laundry spilling out to accumulate on the floor. The bathtub had a built up layer of soap scum on it and from the angle he was at, Sam could see the mildew that had taken up residence at the bottom of the built-in soap dish. More dust bunnies gathered in other corners of the small room. If the bathroom looked like this, he knew the rest of the house had to be just as bad. "This place is a mess. How am I gonna clean it up before she gets here?" he groaned.

Still not understanding just what had Sam upset, Al forged ahead. "Sam, your mother knows you just had surgery. I'm sure she's not expecting the Taj Mahal when she gets here. Don't forget, she knows you've had to go back and forth to DC a couple of times, too."

Sam shook his head. "No, you don't understand. I need to get this place cleaned up. She'll just give me the Look if I don't." As Sam said this, Al noticed the way that word seemed cause nearly as much fear in Sam as he suffered during their time on mountain.

"'The Look?'" Al asked growing amused once more. "Maybe they gave you too much of that stuff."

"Yeah…the Look. You know…the one that says she's so disappointed in me and didn't she raise me better than that and what was I thinking all rolled into one." Sam looked wildly around the bathroom again, his voice bordering on panic. "You've got to help me clean this place up, Al. I can't do it like this and it can't be a mess when she gets here." Another thought crossed his mind ratcheting up the level of his anxiety. "Oh man, it's less than a week 'til Christmas and there's no tree or anything. I have to make this place look like it's Christmas. You have to help me, Al," he helplessly begged grabbing at Al's arm.

"Okay, okay. Just calm down," Al said pushing Sam gently to lean against the wall again and extricating his arm from his grip. "Geesh, you're acting like this is the end of the world. I'll help you get this place ready for your mother but right now, you just need to calm down. There's nothing you can do about it tonight and getting yourself all worked up is just gonna get you sick again."

Before Al had finished speaking, Sam lurched forward again emptying the remaining contents of his stomach into the toilet. There wasn't much which brought on a bought of dry heaving.

Once he'd brought the dry heaves under control, Sam sagged back against the wall and closed his eyes. "You had to say that, didn't you?"

Wordlessly, Al refilled the glass with more water, handing it to Sam to rinse his mouth out again. before taking it back and handing him a wet washcloth to wipe his mouth. He helped Sam up from the floor and walked him back to the bedroom.

"Just answer one thing for me," Al said when Sam was seated on the edge of the bed. "Why'd you decide to have the surgery today knowing your mother was coming a few days later?"

"It was either today or the earliest would be in February just before the wedding. After that I would have had to wait until March. I figured Katie might kill me if I showed up for her wedding after just having surgery. This seemed like the best option. I didn't want to have to wait another three months and constantly worry about it popping out again." Sam kept his face angled down but flicked his eyes up to meet Al's. "I guess I should have thought about all this before today, but it seemed like there was always so much going on."

"Before today might have been a good time to think about this," Al agreed. "There's not much you can do about it right now so why don't you stop worrying about it for tonight, lie back down and get some sleep. I'll help you start to tackle it in the morning. You'll see, by the time your mother gets here everything will be all set."

"Thanks, Al." Sam lay back in bed trying his best to get comfortable. It wasn't easy to accomplish with the immobilizer still in place and he was restricted to lying either on his back semi-reclined to keep his shoulder in the correct position or on his right side. "Do you mind grabbing me some Tylenol?" he asked. "My head's pounding and my shoulder's starting to throb."

Al was ready to walk out of the room and get the Tylenol Sam had asked for when it occurred to him that, in this instance, something stronger might be better. "You want me to get you one of those painkillers Dr. Stone prescribed."

Sam considered Al's offer before answering. Ordinarily, he'd eschew the stronger drugs but in this situation thought it might be wise to make an exception. "What did he give me?"

"Percoset."

Sam remembered taking Percoset once before when he'd had his wisdom teeth removed and couldn't remember having any side effects from it other than being groggy. "Yeah, I guess that'd be better than the Tylenol."

Al nodded. "I'll be right back."

Once he'd returned to the room with the pill and another glass of water, Al waited until Sam had swallowed them and then pulled the blanket over him when he lay back down. "Do me a favor, Kid. Sleep now and we'll worry about the house tomorrow," he said on his way to the door. "Yell if you need anything."

Leaving the door to Sam's bedroom partially ajar, Al went back to the living room and stood in the middle of it trying to see it as Thelma would. Sam was right, he decided. The place was a mess. Though untidy could occasionally describe Sam's housekeeping style, the current state of the house went far beyond that. Since getting back from Colorado, Sam had been too busy to do anything with it. Between recovering from the injuries he'd suffered, starting in on the project and then flying to Washington, DC, it was clear that housekeeping had slipped way down on his list of priorities. Judging by the state of some parts of the house, it didn't look like it had been very high on his list for a lot longer than that. If Al had to venture a guess, he'd say the last time Sam's house had had a thorough cleaning was when Thelma had been there in June when she'd stayed with Sam for a couple of weeks after the wedding that wasn't.

The coffee table was a mess of accumulated papers, magazines and newspapers. A fine coat of dust covered nearly every flat surface of the living room and families of dust bunnies had sought homes here too. On the other end of the room, Sam's piano was covered with sheet music he'd pulled from the wood file cabinet but hadn't put away. Al sighed knowing that the rest of the house would be in a similar state.

A quick look in the entry foyer confirmed his guess. Mail that had been dropped and forgotten covered the table by the door there. For Sam's sake, Al hoped it was only junkmail that was accumulating and nothing important.

Walking back through the living room and down the hall, Al entered Sam's office to see that it was no better, and in fact was probably worse, than the living room had been. Haphazard piles of papers, folders and notebooks surrounded the computer on the desk or were piled up on the floor beside it. Various papers, books, and other items also covered the couch across the room from the desk. The only spot in the whole office that had survived the clutter tornado was the shelf Sam had hung over the couch to display the medal and diploma announcing that he was the 1986 recipient of the Nobel Prize in Physics for his work in Neural Holography1.. A portion of the cash award of just under $300,000 that accompanied the medal and diploma had been used as a sizeable down payment on the house keeping the monthly mortgage low.

The guest bedroom across from the office, though not as cluttered, was still in need of a thorough cleaning.

He completed his tour of the house in the kitchen and looked dismayed at the dishes piled next to the sink waiting to be washed. The counters surrounding the periphery of the kitchen had become catch alls for more clutter and a series of open folders and unrolled blueprints covered the kitchen table. The only surface that hadn't fallen prey to Sam's bout with untidiness was the island in the middle where he normally ate his meals.

Though Thelma might forgive her son for not keeping neat in the days following his surgery, Al had a pretty good idea she'd probably take him to task for letting things get the way they were in the days leading up to it. In all honesty, Al had to acknowledge that he was to blame for some of the mess. He'd been spending nearly as much time here as he had at his own apartment and had contributed to some of the accumulating clutter. They'd have their work cut out for them over the next couple of days getting the house to what would pass muster for Thelma Beckett – or what Sam thought it had to be to pass muster. Then there was the issue of decorating for the upcoming holiday as well. All told, they'd probably cut it close to the wire.

"No time to start like the present," Al muttered as he started sorting through the mess on the kitchen table.

1 Ernst Ruska was awarded the 1986 Nobel prize in Physics "for his fundamental work in electron optics and for the design of the first electron microscope". Also sharing the prize that year was Gerd Binnig and Heinrich Roher "for their design of the scanning tunneling microscope".


	2. December 18, 1987

**Friday, December 18, 1987**

Thanks to the pain pill Sam took before going to bed, he ended up sleeping through the night. There were no more recurrences of the nausea and vomiting. When he woke, he felt more human, if not one hundred percent. Looking over to the clock and seeing that it was already after 7:00, he rolled out of bed. His primary thought was to turn on the coffee maker and get some caffeine into his system to dispel the last of the drug-induced sleepiness. In most cases, he'd choose tea over coffee but on a morning when he didn't feel quite awake, coffee was his choice of caffeinated beverage.

He might not have been functioning on all cylinders yesterday but he still remembered complaining to Al about the state the house was in and his mother's upcoming visit. He'd have a little time to start in on that before he had to go to his appointment with Dr. Stone later.

As he entered the living room, he stopped short, surprised at the site that greeted him. Sprawled on one of the couches sound asleep and snoring was Al. Neat piles of folders, magazines and other assorted papers were stacked on the floor in front of the couch Al slept on. Each pile was labeled with what it was ranging from items that Sam had to sort out to outdated newspapers and magazines to be recycled.

"Al," Sam called shaking Al's shoulder. "Wake up."

"Huh? Sam, something wrong? You ok?" Al said as he immediately woke up.

"Nothing's wrong. I was just wondering why you were sleeping on my couch and what all this is about," Sam said pointing to the stacked piles.

"Oh, well I'm sleeping on your couch because I didn't want to leave you alone last night. You weren't exactly on the same planet as the rest of us most of the day and then you got sick as dog for a while last night. I started cleaning some stuff up for you and must have conked out here. This," he continued gesturing to the piles, "would be the accumulated paper crap you had in this room, the foyer, the kitchen and on your desk. . Haven't you read a newspaper or your mail for the last month?"

"Of course I read my mail," Sam quickly responded. "I pull out anything that's important and the rest…"

"…gets thrown on the table near the door," Al finished for him. He reached for a small stack of envelopes that was on the coffee table. "Here, I think you missed a few of those important ones."

Sam quickly rifled through the stack before pulling one out and throwing the rest back down on the coffee table. "Damn, this is my mortgage. What's today? The 18th?" He didn't give Al a chance to answer the question. "It's postmarked the 5th so it can't be late yet."

He quickly headed for his office without another word. Al grabbed the discarded envelopes off the coffee table and followed Sam into the office.

Sam started to move stuff around on the desk but when he didn't find what he was looking for, he opened the top drawer taking it's contents out and dropping them down on the desk.

"What are you doing?" Al asked horrified from his place just inside the doorway. "I just cleaned that all off. Don't be piling stuff up again."

Sam answered distractedly as he pawed through the now accumulating pile of drawer contents. "I'm not. I'm just looking for a letter opener." Securing the sought after tool, Sam swept the items he'd put on the desk back in the drawer and plucked the envelope from the computer monitor where he'd rested it and slit it open. He quickly scanned the documents contained in the envelope before announcing, "I'm not late." He started moving around the objects still on top of the desk looking for something else. "I don't suppose you saw my checkbook around when you cleaned off my desk. I always leave it right here," he said pointing to the back corner of the desk.

"Why don't you try that drawer you just stuck everything into," Al suggested dryly.

Throwing a lopsided grin in Al's direction, Sam pulled open the drawer and pushed the contents around in it until he located the sought after checkbook. He'd inadvertently swept it in with the rest of the stuff. Checking the payment information again, he wrote out the check and stuffed it, along with the payment stub, into the envelope. Once the envelope was sealed, he began to hunt around the desk again. "Where did you put the...forget it, here they are," he said pulling a roll of stamps from the same drawer and ripping one off. He made a face when he licked the back of the stamp and put it on the envelope. "They should just make these things self-adhesive."

"Maybe you should suggest it to someone," Al joked. "I can just see it now. Maybe they'll give you another Nobel for inventing the self-adhesive stamp."

"Ha ha. You're a real riot. Remind to drop this in the mail when I go to Dr. Stone's later, will ya?" Sam said putting the sealed envelope down on the edge of the desk and heading for the kitchen. "You want some coffee?" he asked over his shoulder.

"What about the rest of these?" Al asked holding up the other envelopes that Sam had discarded.

"They're for credit card insurance. I don't need it." Sensing Al's disbelief, Sam stopped at the office doorway and turned around. "If you don't believe me, open them up. I get them all the time and I recognize the envelopes."

Al tossed the remaining envelopes into the recycling bin by the desk. "I believe you. How could you know those were junk without opening them but you missed your mortgage?"

"I'm not used to paying it yet. I didn't close on the house until after we got back from Colorado." Sam made a detour into the laundry room on his way to the kitchen opening and closing the dryer.

"Hey, I thought you said something about coffee," Al said when Sam went into the laundry room.

"Yeah, I was just checking to see if I'd emptied this out," Sam explained.

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With breakfast out of the way, the two men turned their attention to the accumulated piles of paper that Al had sorted in the living room. Sam gave them another cursory scan and pulled out several magazines that Al had earmarked for recycling and set them aside to read later. While he set about re-filing the items that belonged in his office, Al took care of disposing of those going to recycling.

With the stacks from the various rooms taken care of, the two turned their attention to completing the job in the office. It took nearly an hour for them to sort through everything that was piled up on and around the couch and return it all to its rightful places.

"We've got to get going in about an hour," Al said as he put the last book back on the bookcase. "I'm gonna go take a shower and get changed. You should get ready too."

Sam surveyed the work they'd done that morning. Although the room still needed a thorough vacuuming and dusting, at least the collected clutter had been taken care of. "I could use a shower, too," he said.

Al was just entering the bathroom at the end of the house where the guest bedroom was when he realized what Sam had said and followed him to his bedroom. "You can't," he reminded him stopping in the doorway.

"What do you mean, I can't?" Sam queried. After a morning spent cleaning up around the house and being ill the night before, going out without showering wasn't very appealing.

"You can't take one until after you get the dressing checked today, remember?" Sam's face showed little recollection of the post-op instructions he'd received the previous day. "Of course you don't remember. They had you too drugged out yesterday," Al muttered. Louder, he said to Sam, "Dr. Stone said you weren't to get the surgical site wet until after he checks to see how it is today so no shower since that would definitely get it wet."

"I did forget. Ok, no shower then." Sam started to pull clothes out to change into throwing them down on the bed. When Al saw him add a pullover sweater to the pile, he spoke up again.

"You better not try the sweater. You're not supposed to move that shoulder around at all yet and you know how hard it was up on the mountain trying get a sweater on. Stick with a button down shirt."

Sam grabbed the sweater from where he'd put it and stuffed it back into the drawer. "I suppose the doctor told me that yesterday, too. Is there anything else he said that I should do – or not do - that I don't remember?"

"Just that when you take the sling off you should move around your elbow and wrist but not your shoulder."

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When they arrived at Dr. Stone's office, a nurse explained that he was delayed by an emergency with another patient but that he should be there within a half hour to forty-five minutes. Since that meant Sam was going to be a while, Al took the opportunity to drive over to his apartment and put together a bag of things he'd need for the next couple of days. Helping Sam to get the house cleaned and decorated for his mother's arrival was going to end up being a time-intensive project and he felt it would be just as easy to sleep at Sam's house instead of running back and forth to his apartment every night. Considering the time he spent at Sam's working on project business, he was starting to think it would probably be just as easy to give up the lease on the apartment he had and move into Sam's guest room. It was an idea he decided to shelve for a later time.

Sam had started renting the house outside of Socorro while working on StarBright. With the prospect of an impending marriage, Sam had made and offer on the house and the owner had accepted it. Al had been surprised that Sam had gone through with the sale after the wedding fell apart. When he'd asked Sam why, Sam had explained that at 34 it wasn't such a bad idea for him to finally own a home – something he could really call his. Several delays with the bank had pushed the actual closing date off until early November.

After securing everything he'd need from his apartment, Al made a quick stop at the grocery store picking up some essentials and was back at the medical building in time to pick Sam up at the end of his appointment.

"How'd things go," Al asked once Sam had buckled his seatbelt.

"It was okay. I'm not going to be able to move my arm around much for a couple of weeks so that's going to make things hard," he started to rub the top of his shoulder and neck grimacing in discomfort.

"Hurting?" Al asked catching the movement out of the corner of his yes.

"It's a little sore. Probably from all the prodding Dr. Stone did. I'll ice it down again when we get home and it should be fine."

"So when do you have to go back?" Al asked.

Sam pulled an appointment card out of his pocket to double-check the information on it. "I have a follow up on the 28th,"

Al was surprised at the length of time before Sam would have any other follow up on his shoulder. "That long? Don't you have any therapy or something before then?"

"No, the next appointment I have is the one with Dr. Stone on the 28th. He's holding off on physical therapy until at least 4 weeks after the surgery to make sure it's healing" Sam confirmed. "I need to keep my arm in the sling constantly for the next two weeks and not move my shoulder at all and I have to keep using the immobilizer at night." Sam was not at all happy with this turn of events. "That means I can't drive for at least two weeks since my jeep's a manual."

"So, I'll drive you wherever you need to go. That's not a problem. You're better off following Dr. Stone's instructions so you don't undo that before it gets a chance to heal up right. I don't think you want to go through surgery again."

"I guess," Sam said though his heart wasn't in it.

"Guess nothing," Al said switching his gaze briefly over to Sam before returning it back to the road in front of him. "If you don't do what you're supposed to I'll just tie you down and make you." Al said it with a smile but deep down he knew he'd do it if he had to. Sam knew he would as well.

"I'd like to see you try," Sam said returning the smile.

The two drove in silence for a while. The buildings around them eventually gave way to desert. Sam had purchased a home on the outskirts of Socorro and, quite literally, didn't have any neighbors around. Though the day was sunny and bright, a cold wind was blowing and temperatures were hovering just a little over 40 – slightly lower than normal for the time of year. Often it was mistaken that just because it was the desert it would be warm all the time when, in truth, temperatures would often fall below freezing and snow would cover the land, though it didn't last long.

Al finally broke the silence in the car. "Ok, so you don't have another appointment for over a week and you need to keep your shoulder still. What else did Dr. Stone tell you?" Al knew that sometimes, unless prompted, Sam was reluctant to reveal instructions the doctor gave him. He'd been down this road before after Sam's first follow-up visit with Dr. Elliot regarding the kidney he'd injured.

"Nothing much really. Just to keep icing it down over the next few days and to take the painkillers when I need to. It's pretty much what he said I'd have to do when we met before the surgery. Oh, he did clear me to take a shower, though. I just need to make sure the area where the incision is wrapped in plastic wrap so it doesn't get wet."

Again the two lapsed into a companionable silence that Sam eventually broke. "Thanks for helping me out the next couple of days and offering to drive me around until I can do it on my own. You don't have to and all and I really do appreciate it." Sam kept his gaze directed straight out the window in front of him unsure how his gratitude would be accepted. Sometimes Al had a funny way of turning Sam's most sincere thanks into a joke of some kind.

"Don't mention it, Kid. Just give me a little more warning next time, ok?"

Sam could hear the sincerity in Al's voice and was grateful for it. Raising his head up, he looked over in Al's direction offering his own idea. "How about if there just isn't a next time?"

"That works, too."

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When they got back to the house, there was a small argument over whether Sam was fit to carry in any of the grocery bags. He finally won the argument although Al made sure he gave him the lightest bag to carry.

"What's in there," Sam asked when he saw Al pull a duffel bag out of the backseat.

"I stopped by my place and picked up a few things. It'll just be easier for me to stay here for the next couple of days instead of going back and forth," Al explained.

"As often as you end up staying here you should just move in," Sam said before walking through the garage to the door. When he got there, he stopped suddenly realizing that with one arm in a sling and the other arm holding the bag of groceries he wasn't able to reach in his pocket for his keys.

"Gimme that," Al said taking the bag from him when he saw Sam's dilemma.

Sam gratefully handed the bag over to Al until he'd unlocked and opened the door but then took it back. He led the way through the laundry room and into the kitchen, depositing the bag of groceries on the island counter. "I was hoping they'd just disappear," he said looking at the dishes in and around the sink.

"I was hoping your dishwasher was going to be fixed," Al added setting his grocery bags down on the counter next to the one Sam had put there.

Sam started pulling groceries out of the bag and putting them in place in the various cupboards. "I called at the beginning of week but I can't get a repairman out here until after the first of the year."

Al grabbed the box of cereal out of Sam's hand giving him a push in the direction of the refrigerator. "Go ice that shoulder down and I'll take care of this. I can take a look at the dishwasher too, you know. That'll save you a bundle on a repairman.

"Oh no," Sam protested. "I'm not letting you anywhere near it. Look what happened when I let you 'fix' the washing machine. I could have floated a boat in the laundry room with all the water that was on the floor. I don't need a flood like that in the kitchen."

"Hey, it was an honest mistake. I thought the hose was latched on tight."

"Uh huh," Sam responded unconvinced before leaving the room. He came back a few moments later with an elastic bandage. Opening the freezer door, he pulled out the gel ice pack he'd been using the evening before and held both out to Al. "Can you do me a favor and wrap this for me. That way I can move around and still ice it down."

Reluctantly, Al took the items from Sam. "Why don't you just go sit down for a while? You don't need to be running around constantly."

"Because, I don't want to just sit down. It's not like it's really hurting anyway, just sore. Now c'mon so I can start getting things done."

Sam sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and looked expectantly up at Al waiting for him to wrap the ice pack in place.

"You're stubborn," Al needlessly stated but he wrapped the icepack in place anyway. "That feel ok?" he asked once he was done.

"Feels fine." Sam looked around the kitchen trying to decide what to do first. "I don't think I can manage washing dishes one-handed."

"I'll get those as soon as I finish putting this stuff away. Why don't you grab your laundry and start that. You can probably manage that with one hand and maybe you'll find out what color the tile is in the bathroom."

"Good idea." He grabbed the empty laundry basket from the laundry room and went back to the master bath. Dropping the empty basket down on the closed lid of the toilet he started to separate his laundry into three piles – whites, lights, and darks. The light and dark colored clothes he left on the floor. The whites he put in the basket. Once he'd finished sorting all of the clothes that were in the hamper and had landed on the bathroom floor, he checked his bedroom adding several more items to the pile. Satisfied that he'd tracked down all the laundry, he took the basket of whites to laundry room.

"Hey, Sam," Al called when he caught sight of Sam walking by.

"What?" Sam asked poking his head in the kitchen door seeing Al up to his elbows in soapy water washing the dishes.

"When you're done putting in that load, can you check the fridge and see if you have anything in there that needs to be washed. Might as well get it all at once."

"Sure, just give me a second." Sam dumped the load of laundry in the machine but came up short when it came time to put in the detergent. The bottle was new and heavy and there was no way he'd be able to get it in the measuring cup with one hand without making a mess. Shrugging off the problem, he poured the detergent directly into the machine and skipped measuring it all together. The fabric softener proved somewhat easier.

Once he'd started the wash, Sam cleaned out the fridge as Al had requested. It wasn't as bad as either of them feared it might be. Two containers he put aside for Al to wash and a third one he was too afraid to open. It had been pushed to the very back of the shelf and he honestly couldn't remember how long it might have been in there. He suspected it might have been from before the trip to Colorado. Chalking the container up as an acceptable loss, he tossed it into the trash along with several Chinese take out boxes.

"What do you want to do about dinner?" Sam asked closing the door of the fridge.

"I don't care what it is as long as it doesn't require using any dishes," Al offered.

The two thought silently for a moment before both called out, "Pizza."

"At least that way I won't need you to cut up my food for me," Sam added. "I'll put in the order now and it should be here in about a ½ hour. He picked up the phone but paused before dialing. "What do you want on it?" Al was often quite eclectic in his choice of pizza toppings and it seemed he never suggested the same thing twice.

"Uh, I don't know. Get whatever you want." Al answered.

Sam made the phone call ordering a simple cheese pizza. Since Al had left it up to him to make the choice he decided that, for a change, they'd just play it safe. Some of the combinations the older man came up with to put on pizza were quite interesting and only the truly adventurous could really enjoy them. Today Sam wasn't feeling very adventurous.

"It's gonna take about 45 minutes for them to get here," Sam said after he'd hung up the phone.

"That's what you get for living so far out." Al wiped his hands off after draining the water and tossed the towel on the counter.

While they waited for the pizza's arrival, they sat down and wrote out a game plan for how they were going to tackle the rest of the house. It had been Al's idea as he'd insisted that if they had a definite idea of what they were going to do and how they'd be able to get it done that much faster.

They planned to finish with the house cleaning on Sunday. They'd finish with the office after they ate; do the kitchen, bathrooms and Sam's bedroom tomorrow, and the guest room and living room on Sunday.

"I can't buy a tree on Monday morning," Sam said when he saw Al writing it in.

"Why not," Al asked with his pen poised above the paper. "It's the only time to do it if there's going to be enough time. You can't decorate it right away – you need to let the branches fall so if we get it Monday morning, it'll be ready for Monday night.

"I know all that, Al, but I've got a follow-up appointment with Dr. Elliot Monday morning. I have to go in from some blood work and an ultra-sound."

"Damn, I forgot about that." Al thought for a moment tapping the pen against the paper. "Ok, change in plans. I'll drop you off at hospital Monday morning and while you're at your appointment, I'll get the tree, bring it back here and set it up and then pick you up at the hospital."

"That sounds good," Sam agreed just as the doorbell rang. "Do me a big favor, though," he said as he rose to answer the door.

"Sure, what?"

"Don't get the forest. A nice, small tree will be perfect."

Sam heard Al's laughter follow him out of the kitchen and to the front door. He paid the deliveryman for the pizza and took the box from him bringing it back to the kitchen and dropping it off on the kitchen table.

"I'm going to toss that load of wash into the dryer and start the next one. You mind getting down some plates for us to eat off of? There should be some disposable ones in the cupboard over the sink."

"Tell me they're not Styrofoam," Al complained opening up the cupboard Sam had indicated.

"I think they're paper," Sam answered from the laundry room. "If they're not we'll just make do with them anyway."

"What do you want to drink?" Al called out from the kitchen.

"Whatever's in there," Sam answered as he walked by to grab another load of laundry from the bathroom. When he got back into the kitchen, Al had put the plates and cans of soda on the table and had pulled back the cover on the box of pizza.

"What? No cups to drink out of," Sam asked reaching into a cupboard to get them.

"We don't need them," Al quickly answered. "I've had my fill of washing dishes today. The cans are fine."

Sam couldn't help but laugh at Al's vehemence about not using any other dishes. "Ok, you win. No more dishes today. You planning on eating out until Mom gets here?"

"No, but from now until the time she does get here, you use a dish – you wash a dish. None of this letting them pile up crap."

Sam grabbed a slice of pizza out of the box still laughing. "Works for me," he said around a bite. "Of course you realize that you're going to have to do them for the most part."

"Yeah," Al answered wryly. "I figured that out. I'm beginning to wonder about the timing of this shoulder surgery now."

Sam's only response was to laugh harder.

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Once finished with dinner, Al cleaned off the table throwing the empty pizza box and plates into the trash and putting the rinsed out soda cans in the recycling bin. Sam headed to his office to get started on the clean up in there.

When Al got in the room, he caught Sam trying to pull the top box off a stack in a back corner of the closet one-handed. "What are you trying to do, break your other arm?" he asked grabbing the box from Sam before it could tumble down from the top of the pile.

"These boxes have some Christmas decorations in them," Sam said pointing to the box Al now held as well as the others in the stack. "I thought when we were done in here I could go through them and see what I had and what I needed to buy. I was going to move them into the living room.

Sure enough, the box that Al was holding was labeled "Christmas" in neat block letters. "That's a good idea but you're not in any shape right now to be moving these boxes by yourself. Like it or not, Sam, right now you need help."

"I don't like it but I guess you're right," Sam conceded.

"Good. Now how many others are there?"

"It's that one and the other three."

Sam followed Al into the living room supervising where the boxes were placed.

"Where'd you get this stuff?" Al asked after he'd moved the fourth box from the office closet to the living room. "I didn't think you'd have anything to decorate with."

"Mom gave them to me when she moved out to Hawaii with Katie. It's some of the Christmas decorations we had when I was a kid. She divided it all between the two of us. I've never used it before this year – never really had a reason to. I never wanted to get rid of it, though, so I used to just keep it in storage."

Curiously Al flipped open the lid of one of the boxes. The contents were individually wrapped in tissue paper. Picking up one of the wrapped pieces, he pulled the tissue paper off of it to reveal an angel. It was obviously old with the paint fading and chipped in places.

"That was my grandmother's nativity," Sam explained taking the piece from Al and looking down at it. He caressed the face of the angel with his thumb. "She used to have it set up on a small table in the parlor and every Christmas Eve I'd want to play with it and move the pieces around. Mom would always manage to grab my hand before I could touch anything. Grandma would tell Mom it was ok if I touched, I wouldn't harm it. She passed away when I was still young and she left it to me."

"That your grandmother you said lived with you?" Al asked.

"Yeah, she lived with us for a while," Sam explained as he re-wrapped the angel and placed it back in the box. "After Mom and Dad got married she lived with my Aunt Sarah for a while – I guess so Mom wouldn't feel out of place or like the house wasn't hers. She came to live with us when I was three and she brought this with her. It's kind of ugly and I could get probably get something newer but…" He shrugged not finishing the thought.

"But anything newer wouldn't have the same memories this one has," Al supplied.

"Yeah." Sam visibly shook himself from his thoughts. "I'm going to go check that laundry and I'll meet you back in the office."

Al watched Sam leave the living room before closing the box up again and following him. After another hour and a half's diligent work, they finally had the office as neat and clean as it could possible be.

"Geez, I never would have believed there was a floor in here if I wasn't seeing it with my own eyes," Al joked.

Sam kept right up with Al's joking sarcasm. "I'd forgotten what color it was. Ok, it's still early, what do you want to tackle next?"

"Nothing," Al quickly answered. "You might think it's still early but it's getting late and you've done quite enough for today. You did have surgery yesterday in case you've forgotten."

"It's a little hard to forget," Sam said rubbing his shoulder. Al noticed that he'd been doing that on and off for the last half hour.

"It's time for you to ice that shoulder down again and this time you're sitting on your butt to do it." Sam looked like he was going to argue Al's decision but Al quickly cut him off. "I'm gonna do the same thing so it's not like you're going to be missing out on anything. You get that ice pack and get yourself comfortable on the couch. I'm going to throw some popcorn in the microwave. You can go through those boxes while we watch a movie or something."

"Ok, that actually sounds like a good idea. I just need to finish up with that laundry." When Al looked like he was going to argue, Sam hastened to add, "I can do that while I'm sitting down."

Al gave a quick nod. "I guess that's okay otherwise you're just going to end up with everything wrinkled. I'll be in in a little bit with the popcorn and help you with it."

Once the popcorn had finished popping, Al brought it into the living room. Sam was sitting cross-legged with his back leaning against the couch opposite the TV trying to fold the items of clean laundry in the overflowing basket. He wasn't having much success using just one hand.

"You're making more of a mess of that," Al stated when he saw the results of Sam's folding.

"Yeah, I guess I am" Sam agreed looking at the lumpy pile of clothes. "I though this was something I could handle."

"I'll move those boxes over here. You go through them and I'll fold the laundry. It'll all get done in half the time that way."

Al brought the boxes over to Sam putting them down on the floor next to where he was sitting. He pulled the basket of laundry over to him as well as the clothes that Sam had attempted to fold and began to refold everything. "What's this?" he asked catching sight of the TV. There was an old movie playing and he couldn't immediately place what it was although it did have the ring of familiarity to it.

"_It's a Wonderful Life,_" Sam answered reaching into the bowl of popcorn without taking his eyes off the TV.

As movies went, it wasn't Al's first choice of what to watch. Looking over to Sam, he saw how intent he was watching it and decided not to say anything. Instead, he settled back to watch as Jimmy Stewart's George Bailey realized that no matter what was wrong in his life, it was still a lot better than things would have been if he'd never been born.

Al finished folding the laundry and Sam inventoried the boxes in about 15 minutes. There were a number of things that he'd need to buy new in order to decorate properly but he was set for the most part. One of the boxes had contained the nativity and another had contained carefully wrapped tree ornaments. The rest was an eclectic mix of various decorations.

Once they were both done with their respective tasks, Al moved the boxes back over to a corner of the room and put the folded laundry in Sam's bedroom. When he got back into the living room, he saw that Sam had moved and settled himself comfortable in a corner of the couch across from the TV. His feet were propped up on the coffee table. The discarded icepack was lying on the couch next to him. He cradled the bowl of popcorn in lap as he intently watched the movie. Al grabbed the icepack to return it to the freezer. By the time he got back into the living room, Sam's head was back and he'd fallen asleep with his hand still in the popcorn bowl. Al grabbed the bowl from him and nudged him awake.

"You'd be more comfortable sleeping in bed, you know."

"I'm not sleeping," Sam mumbled pushing himself up straight on the couch. I was just resting my eyes during the commercial."

"Uh huh," Al said unconvinced. "You just happened to miss when that commercial ended because of resting your eyes."

Sam made a valiant effort to stay awake to watch the end of the movie but ended up nodding off again during the next commercial. When Al suggested he head for bed this time, he agreed.

Once he'd changed into his sleeping clothes, Sam grabbed the immobilizer he had to wear at night and brought it out to Al. "Can you give me a hand getting this on?"

"Sure," Al said taking the immobilizer from Sam's hand. It was a wide swath that wrapped around Sam's upper arm and torso preventing him from moving his shoulder unconsciously in his sleep. It stayed in place with the use of wide Velcro strips. Al wrapped it in place pulling the Velcro tight enough so that it wouldn't come off while Sam slept. "Is that too tight?" he asked once it was in place.

"No, it feels ok," Sam assured him. "I'll be glad when I don't need it anymore. I hate having my arm immobilized like this."

Al just offered Sam a sympathetic look. He knew the kid was just blowing off some steam. He couldn't blame him, though. He wouldn't like it very much if he had to sleep with his arm secured to his body – especially if he knew he had two weeks of it to look forward to.

"Where'd you put the bottle of Percocet?" Sam asked getting up from where he'd sat on the coffee table while Al secured the immobilizer.

"It's on the island in the kitchen. It must be starting to bother you pretty bad if you're going to take them."

"Yeah, it's starting to throb again." Sam headed in the direction of kitchen. "I'm gonna go drug myself to oblivion," he said jokingly, "and head to bed. I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Al said in response. He picked up the popcorn bowl and brought it out to the kitchen along with the cans of soda they'd been drinking. He considered leaving the bowl by the sink but remembered his own edict on cleaning each dish as it was used. Once it was rinsed and put away, he checked all the doors in the house to be sure they were locked securely before going back and settling on the couch. Finding the remote, he switched through the stations until he found a basketball game and settled back to watch it.


	3. December 19, 1987 pt 1

**Saturday, December 19, 1987**

The sound of knocking on the bedroom door and Sam's voice beckoning him to get up awakened Al the next morning. "I'm going to kill him," he grumbled when he opened one eye to look at the clock by the bed. There was no way in hell he was getting out of bed at 7:15 on a Saturday morning…no way.

"Go away," he called out loudly enough for Sam to hear him through the closed door before rolling over and attempting to recapture the dream the knocking had disturbed.

The knocking came again accompanying Sam's voice, muffled by the door. "C'mon, Al. It's getting late. Get up now if you want breakfast or you're on your own."

Exasperated Al got out of bed and went over to the door pulling it roughly open. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yeah, it's after 7:00 already," Sam answered brightly. I've got the coffee on and I was gonna make some pancakes. "If you want to take a shower, they'll be ready by the time you're done."

Al had to fight the temptation to just reach out and pop Sam in the jaw. It irritated him that Sam was wide-awake and ready to start the day. He knew the irritation was irrational but couldn't help feeling that way. He struggled to keep the anger out of his voice.

"It's Saturday, Sam. I get up early every day of the week. Saturday and Sunday are the only days I get to sleep in. 7:00 is not sleeping in. Now if you value your life, you'll turn around and go do whatever it is you do when you get up at the crack of dawn and forget I'm even in the house for at least another hour and a half." Al grabbed Sam by both shoulders to turn him from the door and send him on his way. Unfortunately, when he grabbed Sam's left shoulder he made contact with the incision there. The pained breath Sam sucked in quickly alerted him to what he'd done..

"Ah, let it go, Al, please." Sam pushed Al's hand off his shoulder and stumbled back a step and to the side leaning against the wall panting slightly.

"Oh God, Sam! I'm so sorry. I forgot all about your shoulder for a second. Are you okay? Do we need to call the doctor?" Al's questions came out in a torrent. He put out a hand to Sam but stopped short of touching him, afraid of inflicting any more pain.

Sam wiped the pain-induced tears from his face and straightened up from the wall. "No, it's okay." He pulled in a deep breath to steady his shaking voice. "I don't think there's any damage. It just hurt." Sam saw the look of doubt on Al's face and hastened to reassure him, "Honest, it's ok. Look, I'm sorry I woke you up. Why don't you go back to bed or whatever and I'll just leave you alone."

Al watched as Sam started to walk down the hall away from where he was standing. He couldn't have felt more guilty right then than if he had punched the younger man. "Sam," he called after the retreating back. "I am so sorry," he said when Sam turned to look at him. "You know I didn't mean to do that. I should have known."

Sam offered up a half smile. "It's really ok, Al. I know you didn't mean it so don't worry about it, ok? Let's just forget about it."

Without further words, Sam again turned and walked away. Al softly punched the door jam. "Great, I'm supposed to help him and instead I hurt him," he whispered. He stepped back into the room and softly closed the door behind him. There was no way he'd be going back to bed now – his conscious wouldn't let him. He grabbed clothes and headed for the bathroom. He came out 15 minutes later showered, dressed and ready for the day.

When he arrived in the kitchen, Sam was sitting on a stool at the island in the center of the room. He had an icepack balanced on his shoulder and was cradling a cup of tea in his right hand.

"Hey, I thought you said something about pancakes," Al said lightly.

Sam startled slightly not having heard Al come up behind him. "I thought you were going back to bed."

"What, and leave you on your own in here to make another mess?" Al joked then gestured to icepack on Sam's shoulder. "Is it still hurting a lot?"

Sam took the icepack off his shoulder and tossed it on the counter. "Nah. Dr. Stone wants me to ice it down 6 times a day. This just seemed like a good time."

"I don't suppose you'll let me check it and make sure I didn't pop open your stitches," Al asked.

Sam sighed knowing that Al was still feeling guilty for unintentionally grabbing his shoulder. He was ready to shrug off Al's offer to check the incision but decided that maybe if Al saw there was no damage done to it he'd be okay. "Sure. I was going to ask you to help me change the dressing later anyway. Might as well do it now."

Sam retrieved the items needed to change the dressing and brought them back to the kitchen resuming his seat on the stool. Al gingerly took Sam's arm out of the sling and unbuttoned and slipped the shirt off him before peeling back the gauze taped over the area covering the surgical site. The incision started just above Sam's armpit and went vertically up stopping about an inch below the top of his shoulder. It was criss-crossed by a series of neatly tied sutures. He carefully inspected it and although the actual incision was still quite red and angry looking, the area around it wasn't and there was very little swelling. He saw no sign of any of the sutures being broken or any bleeding or leakage of any kind. Satisfied that there was no damage, he carefully recovered the area and helped Sam back into his shirt and sling.

"Satisfied that there's nothing wrong with it?" Sam asked when he'd finished.

"Yeah," Al answered gathering up the wrappers and used gauze. "I'm still sorry, though."

"I know, Al. Let's just forget it now." Sam swallowed the remainder of the tea in his cup and got up from the stool. "So, you want those pancakes or not. I can't guarantee that they'll look perfect with one arm but they will taste good."

"Sounds good. What can I do to help?"

Sam instructed Al on what ingredients he'd need for the pancakes and started to mix them together. The tenseness created when Al had inadvertently hurt Sam disappeared as they cooked breakfast side by side and then sat down to eat.

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Once breakfast was done, they started in on their self-appointed tasks for the day deciding to start with Sam's bedroom and master bath first. They gathered up the cleaning products that they'd need and started.

"I'll do what I can in here," Al said looking around the bathroom and surveying the work that needed to be done. "I don't think you'd be able to do the hard-scrubbing in here with your arm like that. Why don't you start in the bedroom and get as much of the stuff lying around put away."

Sam had just finished putting all of the clean, folded laundry away when Al called him to the bathroom.

"What's up," he asked stopping in the doorway.

"What's this?" Al was holding a pill bottle out for Sam's inspection and from the look on his face it didn't seem that any answer Sam gave would be the right one.

"Uh, it's an antibiotic," Sam answered looking at the label on the bottle. "It's from when we got back from Colorado."

"I can see that," Al said looking at the label as well. He shook the bottle so that the few remaining pills in it rattled against each other. "Aren't you supposed to finish the full course of these?" he asked accusingly.

Sam looked like the proverbial kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Uh, yeah. I guess I missed a couple of doses." The skeptical look on Al's face caused him to get defensive grabbing the bottle from the older man's hand. "It was over a month ago and I'm fine so no harm done if I missed taking a couple of doses." He opened the bottle preparatory to flushing the remaining pills down the toilet and had to correct himself. "Ok, I missed 5 doses. There's still no harm done." He upended the remaining pills into the toilet, recapped the bottle, and tossed it into the trash.

"How can you have a photographic memory and still forget to take your medicine when you're supposed to?" Al wondered out loud.

Sam shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "I guess I just got distracted. Besides, that's not how photographic memory works. It's not as if I'm a machine recording everything around me to play back later. I do have total recall of things that I've read and most discussions I've had or things I've heard but that doesn't extend to every single aspect of my life. There are things I do forget just as anyone else would. You're right, though, I should have taken them all."

"Uh huh, and what about these?" Al asked holding out another prescription bottle to Sam.

Sam took the bottle from him and read the label on it. "It's the painkillers I had when we got back and I didn't finish them because if you read it, it says 'as needed'. I didn't think they were needed so I didn't take them." He handed the bottle back to Al. "Might as well just leave them in the medicine cabinet. You want to go through any of the other bottles in here or can I go finish out there?"

"No, I guess that's it." Sam was almost out of the bathroom when a thought occurred to Al. "Hey, Dr. Stone didn't give you an antibiotic you're supposed to be taking that you've gotten 'distracted from', did he?" There hadn't been a prescription for one in the paperwork Dr. Stone had given Al on Sam's release from the hospital nor had he mentioned one. That didn't mean he hadn't prescribed one at Sam's appointment yesterday that the younger man had failed to mention.

"Just the painkillers, that's it. There's no sign of infection so let's not jinx it, huh?"

"Hey, just checking."

Over the next 45 minutes, Al scrubbed every flat surface in the bathroom until it could be used for surgery. When he was done, he went into the bedroom to help Sam finish in there. "What are you doing under there?" he asked when he got in the bedroom.

Sam was lying on the floor with his upper body under the bed. When he heard Al's voice, he pushed himself out from under the bed. "I was pulling the stuff out from under here," he answered sitting back on his heels.

"And the point to that would be?" Al prompted as he plucked a few stray dust bunnies from Sam's hair.

"We can't vacuum under here if we don't. There's only a few more things I need to pull out but they're in the middle and I'm having trouble reaching." Sam again dropped flat on the floor scooching his body until the only thing still visible were his legs.

Al dropped down on the floor next to him so he could peer under the bed to see what Sam was trying to reach. When he realized that the box Sam was trying to snag from under the bed was fairly heavy, he grabbed him by the belt and pulled him out. "Sam, leave it. I don't think you need to move everything in this room that's not nailed down."

"Yes, I do," Sam countered. "Maybe I can get it out once the bed's moved to the side."

Al looked at the heavy, queen-sized bed and then back to Sam. "Why the hell are we moving the bed?"

"So we can vacuum under it," Sam responded as if he were explaining it to a child. "First you push it in one direction and vacuum that part of the floor, and then you push it in the other. It's simple, really?"

"Really," Al asked climbing to his feet. "Simple?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed but his certainly of just a few moments before was starting to slip.

"Ok, smarty, if it's so easy, let me see you do it." Al took a step away from the bed and crossed his arms in challenge.

Sam pushed easily to his feet and went down to the foot of the bed…and realized there was no way he could possibly move it by himself. "I…uh…I guess I need some help," he admitted with a goofy grin.

"Before I help you move it or any other furniture, I'd really like to know why. Do you expect your mother to get down on her hands and knees and crawl around on your floors?"

"No, of course not," Sam answered quickly. "It's just that when I was growing up that's how Mom would always do the Christmas housecleaning."

"And you're not going to be happy unless that's what you do, am I right?"

A sheepish grin and a nod was Sam's only response.

"Ok, I'll move the bed so you can vacuum but that's all I'm moving in this room. You didn't exactly think light when you shopped for this bedroom set and I'd rather not break my back."

"Deal." Sam eagerly agreed. "I can get under the dresser with the attachments on the vacuum."

Sam stepped back and watched while Al tugged the bed away from its position giving him clearance to vacuum the floor on one side. The box he'd been struggling to move was also moved out of the way. Al then repeated the process on the other side before finally moving the bed back into place.

"You finish up in here and I'm going to go get started on the other bathroom. Maybe we can get it done before lunch and then start in on the kitchen."

Sam had already started putting the items back under the bed and distractedly nodded his agreement with Al's plan.

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Al was just finishing up in the second bathroom when he heard music coming from the living room and decided to go investigate what it was.

Coming just inside the door of the living room, Al saw Sam sitting at the piano playing it with one hand. He was going chastise the younger man for taking time to play the piano and to remind him of the work that still remained undone but the words died on his lips when he caught sight of the expression on Sam's face. It was one he'd seen many times before when Sam would become mesmerized by the music. It was a sort of rapturous wonder and Al was loathe to pull him from it.

Even hampered by the immobilization of one arm, Sam was still able to take joy in the music he was able to coax from the piano. Al listened carefully to the simple melody Sam was playing. He had a feeling that it was original and Sam was making it up as he went along. It wouldn't be the first time he'd composed something original. Al knew that there were more than a few pieces of sheet music that bore the original compositions of Samuel J. Beckett. He also knew that there were just as many original pieces Sam had never written down. Al had asked him about that once. Sam had gotten a mysterious, far-away look on his face and explained that some music was just meant for the moment and not forever. Al had yet to fathom what he'd meant but that day he'd concluded that although Sam was a man of science; he had the heart of a poet.

Al remained where he was for a few minutes longer enjoying the music that Sam was playing. Finally, Sam caught sight of his one-man audience out of the corner of his eye. With a grin he switched from the melody he'd been playing to the very familiar "Deck the Halls" adding his voice to the music coming from the piano.

"If you don't get a move on," Al said when Sam had finished the first chorus, "it's going to be December 26 by the time we deck the halls."

Sam gave Al a sideways smile before going up and down the scales one more time. "Mom'll be able to give it a proper workout when she gets here," he said running his hand lovingly over the keys before putting the cover down and getting up. Maybe I'll give it a try without this on," he added as he fingered the material of the sling. "I just need to make sure I keep my shoulder still. I should still be able to play and do that."

"You sure about that," Al asked. He knew that music was important to Sam ranking just behind his pursuit of science but he didn't think it was something he should risk the use of his arm on.

"Sure, I'm sure," Sam answered quickly. "It's not like I'm going to move the piano – just play it."

Al was still skeptical about Sam's plans to attempt anything in the next few days without the sling but didn't want to prolong an argument about it. With any luck, once Thelma got here she'd get him to see what was sensible. If that didn't work, Al was sure Sam's own body would inform him of how foolhardy his plan was. "I'm going to assume that singing Christmas carols around the piano is a Beckett holiday tradition," he commented in a change of topic.

"Yeah, it is. When I was really young, Mom used to play the piano on Christmas Eve. Once I started to learn and got better at it, we'd take turns. I'd always look forward to it." Sam got a wistful look on his face thinking back to past Christmases when his whole family was there. He started to laugh, but there was a note of melancholy to it. "The Christmas I was six years old I smuggled my cats into the house – they were supposed to stay in the barn. No one knew I'd hid them in my bedroom until Mom started playing and singing. All of sudden, in the middle of "Silent Night", Donder came flying down the stairs like a shot with Blitzen close behind. They both tried to climb the Christmas tree. Dad was trying to catch one of them and Tom was trying to catch the other one and Mom just kept on playing."

"And what did you do while this was going on?"

"I tried to crawl under the couch and disappear. I thought for sure once Dad and Tom caught them, the cats would be history and me with them. All visions of Santa vanished from my head that year." As he told the story, Sam started to sort the sheet music that was still piled on the piano into separate piles.

"I take it Santa still came," Al prompted.

"He did. Mom and Dad forgave me when I told them why I'd brought the cats in."

"And just why was that?" Al again prompted. Sometimes getting Sam to talk about his past could be the hardest thing and other times he was free with it.

"I wanted to know ifthey'dreallytalkatmidnight," Sam responded quickly in a low voice.

"You wanted to what? I didn't get that last part."

Sam put down the pile of sheet music and faced Al. "I wanted to know if they'd really talk at midnight." On Al's questioning look Sam further explained, "Grandma had told me a story about how at midnight on Christmas Eve animals were given the gift of speech. I wanted to know if it would really happen. I couldn't go out to the barn, though, because I had to be in bed or Santa wouldn't come. I did he next best thing. I brought Donder and Blitzen in the house and hid them in my bedroom. That way when they started to talk I'd be able to hear them."

"So, did they?" Al asked trying hard to keep the mirth out of his voice.

Sam returned to his task of sorting. "I don't know. Dad put them back in the barn once he caught them. Mom gave them some milk, though, since it was Christmas Eve."

"You know, sometimes I really feel sorry for your parents," Al remarked.

"Why?"

"Because it must have been damned hard trying to stay one step ahead of you." Al turned to go back in the kitchen but paused. There was one more thing that had him curious. "Donder and Blitzen?"

"Yes, Donder and Blitzen," Sam patiently answered without turning from his task. "I got them for Christmas the year before. It seemed like good names at the time. Hey, I was 5 years old and I was an impressionable kid. They were a Christmas gift. It made sense to me."

Al held his hands up in surrender. "Whatever made you happy. Why don't you finish sorting through that since you're making a pretty good go of it and I'm gonna get started with the kitchen."

"Yeah, ok," Sam said scooping up one pile of sheet music and taking it over to the file cabinet he used to store it. "I'll be there in a little bit to help you out."


	4. December 19, 1987 pt 2

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"What are you doing?" Sam asked coming into the kitchen when he'd finished with the sheet music.

Al was kneeling on the floor in front of the stove with his head partially inside the oven. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked as his voice echoed slightly in the oven.

"I don't know, that's why I asked."

Al pushed up to his feet turning to face Sam. "I'm cleaning your oven is what I'm doing." He held up a can so that Sam could see it. "It's called oven cleaner. You own it; you might try using it sometime."

Sam bent down to peer in the oven that now had a coating of white foam on the walls then stood up and pointed to a setting on the dial. "It's a self-cleaning oven. That's why I never use the oven cleaner. I bought it before I realized I didn't need it."

"Oh," Al said chagrined. "I, uh, I guess I didn't see that."

"No, I guess not. You're stuck having to clean it that way now. You turn the oven on to use the self-cleaner and you'll probably kill us both with the fumes. And to think, I was going to volunteer to clean the oven."

"Smart-ass."

Sam started pulling items from the counter near the stove to clean it down placing them on the kitchen's central island. "What was Christmas like when you were a kid?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing like you ever had," Al answered evasively.

"C'mon, you must have had traditions or something," Sam prompted. "Everyone has family Christmas traditions."

"You need a family to have family traditions, Kid," Al said gruffly. Don't forget, I spent most of my childhood in an orphanage. The nuns weren't really high on Santa and making merry. They went more for the church angle and let's just say right now God and I aren't on the best terms."

Sam felt bad for asking Al about what Christmas was like when he was a kid. Even though he hadn't really gotten an answer to his question, what Al said was enough to tell him there hadn't been very many happy ones. "What about now? What do you do for Christmas now?"

Al shrugged leaning against the sink. "Nothing really. I haven't thought about celebrating it for a long time." Al turned to the sink and washed his hands. "It's just a day like any other day to me."

Sam opened his mouth ready to say something but just as he did the last piece of the canister set that he was putting back on the counter slipped from his grip crashing to the floor. The heavy ceramic survived its crash to the tiles but its lid dislodged spilling sugar all over the floor.

Al couldn't resist laughing as Sam stood in the middle of the sugar looking down at it shocked. "We're supposed to be cleaning the mess, Sam, not making a new one. Go get a broom and dustpan so we can get that swept up."

Once the sugar had been cleaned from the floor, Sam suggested they call a break for lunch.

"That sounds like a plan," Al agreed. "I bought some tuna yesterday and some bread. How's that sound?"

"Sounds like lunch." Sam started pulling the needed food stuffs from the cupboards. "Why

don't you sit down and I'll put them together. You've been doing most of the work this morning. It's the least I can do."

"And you plan on using the can opener how?" Al inquired.

"I could just...ummm...maybe if I...," Sam looked between the can of tuna and the can opener realizing Al had a point. There really was no way for him to do it without either moving his arm beyond what he was supposed to or getting tuna all over everything. He handed the can over to

Al. "Ok, you open the can and I'll answer the door," he said just as the doorbell rang.

Sam pulled open the door to reveal a deliveryman with a very large box on the ground in front of him. "Hi, can I help you?" he asked.

"You Dr. Sam Beckett?" the man asked looking down at his clipboard."

Once the deliveryman had confirmed that he was, indeed, Dr. Sam Beckett he thrust a clipboard at Sam to sign for the package and quickly left. Sam looked down at the box and realized there was no way he was getting it in the door without help. Almost regretting it, he called out for Al while at the same time trying to move the box in with his foot.

"What's up?" Al asked. When he got in the entryway and saw Sam trying to move the box, he stopped him. "You're not gonna get that in that way. What are you trying to do? Remember if you need help, it's ok to ask for it."

"I know," Sam sighed in frustration. "That's why I called you. I'm starting to feel like I can't do anything on my own. If I'd known it was going to be like this, I might have re-thought the surgery."

"And suffered for it. It's just going to be a little while and then you'll be on your own again." Al lifted the box from the floor. "Where do you want me to put this and the faster you decide, the better. It's not light."

"Stick it in the living room for now. I'll open it after we eat."

"Aren't you even going to see who it's from?" Al asked after he'd put the box on the floor in the alcove near the piano.

Sam shrugged and started to walk out of the room going back to the kitchen. "Beats me. Like I said, I'll open it after we eat," Sam said going back to the kitchen.

Al gave the box a final curious nudge then followed Sam out to the kitchen. He took a seat on one of the stools. He watched as Sam finished their lunch preparations and slid one of the sandwiches over to him. Sam had just sat down on one of the other stools when he popped back up. He opened another cupboard and pulled a bag of potato chips from it. He peeled back the top layer of bread from his sandwich and laid some chips inside.

Al crinkled his nose in distaste as he watched Sam finish his sandwich preparations. "What the hell are you doing?"

Sam paused in bringing the sandwich to his mouth. "Eating. What's it look like?"

"I know you're eating but why did you put your chips in your sandwich. Most people just eat them on the side, you know."

"I know it's weird but it's how I've always eaten tuna. I hated to eat it when I was a kid so Mom would make it this way so I'd eat it." Sam took a bite out of the sandwich and talked around it, "It worked and it's still the only way I'll eat tuna."

Al reached for the chips putting some on his plate then took a bite out of his sandwich. "So, aside from the fact that you don't think the house is ready for your Mom, you must be getting excited that she's coming."

"I guess," Sam said with a shrug. "To tell you the truth I'm not really sure how I'm feeling right now." When he saw Al raise his eyebrows in surprise of the admission, he hastened to explain. "I mean, yeah, I'm looking forward to seeing Mom – I guess I'm just feeling a little weird that it's going to be just the two of us for Christmas. When I was a kid, there were always a bunch of people at Christmas Eve and then for Christmas dinner. I guess it's just going to feel…strange."

"So, you'll make a new kind of Christmas," Al said in an attempt to cheer Sam up.

"Yeah, I guess." Sam looked down to the top of the island toying with the edge of his sandwich and deliberately not meeting Al's eyes. "What…uh…what are you doing for Christmas?" he asked softly.

"Me? I don't know. Once I get you settled here I was thinking of going up to Vegas or something."

"Do you wanna have Christmas with me and Mom?" Sam asked quickly. "I mean, you're already here and all." Sam caught sight of the strange look on Al's face and quickly backpedaled. "I didn't mean it like that. Even if you weren't here, I'd still want you to come. I mean I'm not just asking you because you're here." He stopped in frustration when he realized how strange and bizarre his invitation sounded. "Oh, hell, I'm making a mess of this," he said throwing his balled up napkin on the counter."

"You're not making a mess of anything, Sam," Al said gently. "I know what you mean and I'm touched by it." When Sam snuck a sideways glance in Al's direction, he still looked unsure. "Really, Kid, I am touched that you want me to spend Christmas with you and your Mom. It's for family, though. You're Mom almost lost you a couple of months ago. I don't want to intrude on your time together."

"You wouldn't be intruding," Sam hastened to reassure as he finally looked up to meet Al's gaze. "I want you here and I know Mom would, too." Again, he looked down to his lap. "I want you here. Please say yes." Sam snuck another look at Al hoping he'd sounded as sincere as he felt.

Sam's wide hazel eyes held nothing but sincerity in them. In the face of that sincerity, Al's reluctance to join him and Thelma for Christmas faded. "I accept your invitation," he simply said. "Thank you for wanting me to be here with your family." This time it was Al's turn to look down unable to meet Sam's eyes. "It's been so long since I've had any kind of family I wanted to celebrate with – or any that wanted to celebrate with me. This really means a lot to me." Al raised his eyes once more to meet Sam's. "There's only one thing, Kid,"

"What, Al. Tell me," Sam begged.

"I refuse to sleep on your couch as long as that room's still a disaster area." A smile broke over Al's face as he sought to lighten the moment. Sam, still caught up in seriousness of the moment, failed to see the joke.

"Oh no, you don't have to sleep on the couch. You can have my bed. I'll sleep on the couch. You're the guest."

Al started to laugh at Sam's words and when his expression turned from one of sincerity to one of confusion, Al just laughed harder.

"What's so funny?" Sam finally asked.

"You, Kid," Al answered as he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. "You're so damned easy sometimes." When the confusion persisted on Sam's face Al hastened to explain. "It was a joke. Of course I'm gonna sleep on the couch. I'd never kick you out of your bed – especially since you are injured."

Finally understanding why Al was laughing, Sam's confusion turned to fond exasperation. "Someday, Al."

"Yeah, someday what?" Al challenged.

"Just someday. You're sure the couch is fine?"

"Sure I'm sure. Now if we're finished eating, why don't we move on to everything else that still needs doing." Al rose from the island gathering up the dishes they'd used. "You think if I wash you can dry?"

"I think I can handle that," Sam replied as the put the chips and bread away. "What do you think about going out somewhere for dinner tonight?" Sam asked when he joined Al at the sink accepting the dishes as they were rinsed. By holding each dish with his left hand, he was able to run the towel over it with his right.

"That sounds good." Al handed the last cup to Sam and pulled the plug letting the soapy water drain away. "At least there won't be any dishes to wash that way," he added as he dried his hands on a towel and threw it on the counter.

Once the dishes were washed, Sam was ready to start back in on the rest of the cleaning in the kitchen.

"What about the box?" Al asked.

"What about the box?" Sam echoed.

"I thought you said we were going to open it after we ate. Well, it's after we ate so open it."

"Geesh, you're worse than a kid," Sam said with a laugh as he led the way to where they'd left the box.

"Hey, I'm just curious," Al defended.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Sam observed. He knelt down next to the box and read the return address on it. "It's from Mom. I wonder what she sent."

Al was equally confused. Thelma would be there in about three days so it didn't make much sense she'd be mailing anything to Sam.

Sam reached into his pocked pulling out the Swiss Army knife he kept there and used it to cut the tape on the box open. Folding back the flaps, he saw that the box contained a number of brightly wrapped gifts. An envelope was on the top with his name on it in his mother's distinctive script.

He opened the envelope, pulled out the note from his mother, and scanned what it said. "These are from Mom and Katie. They're for us. Mom didn't want to have to carry them on the plane," he summarized. The last line of the note caught his eye and he chuckled softly. "Mom says to make sure I tell you you're not to shake anything to try to guess what's in them."

Al looked puzzled. "How did she know I did that?"

Sam looked up to Al from where he was kneeling. "How'd she know I tried to smoke my Dad's cigarettes when I was 14? According to her 'Mama knows'. I gave up trying to figure it out a long time ago." As Sam was getting ready to close the flaps on the box, something else inside caught his eye and he pulled it out.

Folded neatly together were three red Christmas stocking. Two of them looked old and one, though in the same style, looked new. All three were red trimmed with a white cuff. On the cuff of the two older stockings, "Sammy" and "Mama" was written. On the cuff of the newer one, "Al" had been written in neat block letters. Sam held up the stocking with Al's name on it so he could see. "See, Mom wants you here too or she wouldn't have sent this along."

Al took the stocking from Sam and ran a finger over the name on the top. "I don't think I can remember ever having a stocking of my own when I was growing up. This was really nice of your mom." He handed the stocking back to Sam and shook off the melancholy memories. "Come on, close that up and let's get finished with the kitchen. If we do, we might get a chance to sit down and relax before going out to dinner."

Sam looked carefully at Al and realized, not for the first time, that there was a lot more than met the eye when it came to Albert Calavicci. When Sam had first met him, everyone was ready to write Al off as a drunken has-been. Sam had seen through that to the person underneath and he was grateful that he had. He closed the flaps on the box and pushed up to his feet. "I think we should move this into my bedroom so it doesn't tempt you."

Al turned large, innocent eyes in Sam's direction. "Don't you trust me?" he asked.

"No, I don't," Sam said with a laugh.

Al gave Sam a half grin. "I don't blame you. I wouldn't trust me either."

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As Al predicted, they finished a thorough cleaning in the kitchen with time enough for the two of them to relax and take a shower before going out to dinner. Sam had been all for continuing on and starting in on the living room but Al had claimed that he was too tired to do anymore. In all honesty, he'd seen Sam rubbing his shoulder more and more and took a guess that he was starting to feel more than a little sore. He was hoping that by stopping now it would limit how bad the pain got.

At one point, Al had suggested that it might be for the best if Sam put on the immobilizer while they were doing the cleaning. Even with the sling and being careful not to move his arm, there was no way to eliminate any and all movement. The look Sam threw his way when he'd suggested it would have been able to melt glaciers. Al thought that if the look Sam could muster up was a fraction of his mother's, it was no wonder it had him worried.

"You wanna go to El Camino or Fiorello's?" Al asked once they'd stopped cleaning.

"No and no," Sam answered.

"What do you mean 'no' and 'no'."

"I'm tired of both of them," Sam explained. "It seems like almost every time we go out to eat we end up at either one of them."

"I thought you liked them."

"I do like them. I also like peanut butter and jelly. I don't eat that everyday, do I?"

"Ok. If you don't want Mexican or Italian, what do you want?" Al challenged.

"Chinese," Sam quickly answered. He'd obviously been thinking about this for a while – probably since lunchtime when he'd suggested they go out for dinner. "Let's go the Hungry Dragon. We hardly ever go there."

Al snorted softly at Sam's choice. "With a name like 'Hungry Dragon' you wonder why we don't go there a lot."

"Hey, the name might be a little…uninspiring but the food's good." Sam pulled out all the stops, "Let's just go there this time. Next time you can choose. I promise."

"Ok, ok. Stop begging, it's doesn't become you," Al said with a laugh. "I'm gonna go take a shower and get changed before we go out. You might think about doing the same."

"You trying to tell me something," Sam asked.

"Yeah, you've been cleaning this house all day. You need to clean up."

"Geez, Al, be direct why don't you? I guess you're right, though. I'm feeling pretty grotty right now." Sam headed off to his bedroom and Al headed in the direction of the spare bathroom.

When Sam emerged from his room 20 minutes later, he was still buckling the belt on his jeans.

"Is that what you're going to wear," Al asked looking Sam up and down.

"Yeah, what's wrong with it?" Sam asked curiously. He'd always leaned toward more traditional, comfortable clothes than what was currently fashionable but he didn't see how he could have gone wrong with jeans, and the blue-plaid flannel shirt he had on. He'd worn the same thing or similar dozens of times around Al without any kind of reaction.

"Nothing, except for that sweatshirt. Geez, where'd you get it?"

Sam fingered the material of the zip-front sweatshirt he'd put on over the flannel shirt. He'd had to pull it from the back of his closet and it was rather old. Ordinarily he'd have just worn a sweater or put a long-sleeved t-shirt on under the flannel shirt but the current state of his shoulder prohibited both options. "It's cold out. You wanna help me put on a sweater?" he asked raising his eyebrows.

"No," Al quickly answered remembering how difficult it had been to do just that after the plane crash. "Don't you have anything in any better condition, though?"

"Sure, Al, I have this brand-new one that I'm keeping in my closet. I just thought I'd wear this one to torture you." Sam dropped the sarcasm. "Do you think if I had another one in better shape I'd wear this? I'm cold so this is my only option. Besides, I don't think what I wear is going to have any effect on the food we eat." Sam pulled open the coat closet taking out Al's coat and handing it to him before taking out his own. "Let's get going"

"Already?" Al questioned in surprise. "Don't you think it's a little early? I thought maybe we could sit down and relax for a little while before we went out."

"It's going to take at least 20 minutes to get there and it's Saturday. The place is going to be crowded. Besides, I'm starving."

"You're always starving," Al commented. He pulled on his coat and watched for a moment while Sam struggled to get his on. Finally, he stepped in, holding the coat while Sam slid his arm in. He didn't give him a chance to even try to zip the coat on his own.

"I feel like I'm about 3 years old," Sam commented when Al pulled the zipper up for him.

"Pick a coat with buttons next time," Al advised.

It wasn't until Al had driven the car out of the garage that either of the men noticed the weather.

"It's snowing," Sam said with wonder watching the flurry that was just beginning. There'd been nothing on the news lately about an upcoming snowstorm so it was likely that this was just a flurry that wouldn't last until morning. It still brought out a child-like wonder in Sam.

"Oh goody, just what we need – a snowstorm," Al groused as he watched the flakes flutter to the ground.

"Aw, c'mon, Al," Sam cajoled "It's just a little flurry. We hardly ever get any snow around here." He paused for a moment thinking. "I wonder what the chances are of it snowing on Christmas Eve. It was almost always snowy back in Indiana. I bet Mom hasn't see any since she moved to Hawaii."

"Ok, for your Mom's sake I hope there's snow flurries on Christmas Eve but that it's all gone 24 hour later."

By the time they got to the Hungry Dragon the flurry had stopped. There hadn't been enough snow to do more than swirl along as it fell with no accumulation.

The restaurant was busy, which they'd guessed it would be since it was a Saturday night. After a 10 minute wait, the hostess showed them to their table.

When it came time to order, Al noticed that Sam made sure to order only foods that wouldn't have to be cut. He suddenly had an idea of why Sam had insisted on Chinese. Sam's pride had prevented him from any option that would have meant Al cutting his food for him in public.

"So, what other Beckett traditions can I look forward to?" Al asked once their meals had been brought over. "I mean, you've told me about Christmas carols around the piano so I figure there's got to be more."

"I don't think we did anything really out of the ordinary. You know, just the regular stuff." Sam's attention was only half on answering Al's question. The other half was firmly focused on trying to use the chopsticks he'd been given to eat his dinner. It seemed no matter how often he tried, he just couldn't seem to master it.

"Give it up, Kid," Al advised after watching the show Sam was providing for a few minutes. "You'll starve to death before you master chopsticks."

Sam threw a dirty look but did put down the chopsticks in favor of the more familiar fork.

"Now that I've got your attention," Al said once Sam had successfully put food in his mouth, "tell me just what these 'ordinary' traditions are. I never really did celebrate the holiday in a way that was normal so humor me."

Sam swallowed the food in his mouth and reached for his glass of water before answering. "We'd eat dinner together – usually my grandparents would be there, aunts, uncles, cousins. Dad came from a pretty big family so it was always a busy night. Mom would always make hot chocolate for all of us kids and put a candy cane in it and she'd make her homemade eggnog for the adults. Mainly it was just a time to be together. Like I said, nothing really that special or out of the ordinary from what other families probably did."

"Sounds nice," Al said somewhat wistfully. "I don't remember much about Christmas Eve when I was with my parents and when I was in the orphanage – well, that many kids doesn't make it really easy for there to be a lot for anyone."

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I wish it had been different for you."

Al shrugged on Sam's concern. "Nothing to be done now to change it. I guess there are worse things in life than not having a Norman Rockwell Christmas."

The conversation drifted over to plans for the project and stayed there for the rest of the meal.

When they got back to the house, Sam retired to his room long enough to change into the clothes he'd sleep in. When he returned to the living room, Al had already made himself comfortable on one of the couches and had turned a basketball game on. Sam stretched out on the other couch and the two watched the game in companionable silence. As he had the night previous, Sam ended up falling asleep while watching the TV and missed the 4th quarter of the game. When it was over Al shook him gently to wake him up.

"Go get the immobilizer so I can put it on you so you can go to bed."

Sam nodded his agreement and sleepily and got up from the couch. He was still more asleep than awake and Al wasn't sure how he managed to navigate from the couch to his bedroom without banging into any walls or furniture on the way to and from his room. He handed the immobilizer to Al and sat down heavily on the coffee table until it had been secured in place. Once it had been, he mumbled something resembling "goodnight" and returned to his bedroom.

Once Al heard all sounds of movement from Sam's bedroom cease, he turned off the TV, checked the locks on all the doors and headed off to bed himself. With any luck, the remaining housecleaning that had to be done would go off without a hitch tomorrow.


	5. December 20, 1987

**Sunday, December 20, 1987**

Sam rolled over, or rather attempted to roll over but was stopped by the immobilization of his arm and the pain that putting his full weight on his shoulder caused. It pulled him from what had become a restless sleep. Rolling over in the other direction, he peered at the red numbers glowing from the clock by his bed. It was only a little after 2:30. He'd been in bed just over 3 hours even if it did feel like longer. He lay still for a few moments trying to figure out just what it was that had pulled him from his sleep and realized it was the level of pain in his shoulder. Since going to bed, it had doubled.

He rolled over onto his back and tried to settle down into a comfortable position, willing himself to fall back to sleep. After lying there for another 45 minutes without any decrease in the pain or getting any closer to sleep, he finally gave in and got out of bed and padded quietly to the kitchen. Locating the bottle of painkillers on the kitchen island, he shook one out of the bottle onto the counter. Retrieving a bottle of water from the refrigerator, he swallowed the pill followed by a swig of water before capping the water and returning it to the refrigerator.

Silently returning to his room, he climbed back into bed, pulled the covers up and settled back, waiting for the Percoset to kick in and send him off to dreamland. Even with the painkiller, it still took nearly 45 minutes before the pain had lessened enough that he was able to go back to sleep.

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Unlike the previous morning, this morning Al woke naturally without any knocking at the door. The first thing he did was look at the clock. He was surprised to see that it was already well after 8:00 but Sam hadn't made any attempt to wake him. Then again, after yesterday morning the kid was probably too afraid to do anything to wake him.

Al stretched in the bed and decided that it was time to get up. Grabbing his bathrobe from where he'd thrown it on the foot of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the shower dressed and ready for the day. He went out to the kitchen in search of Sam. He was surprised when he didn't find the younger man in the kitchen nor any sign that he'd been in there earlier. Backtracking he poked his head into the office across from the guest room but it was vacant as well. The living room likewise proved to be void of human life. Seeing that the door to Sam's room was still partially closed, he tapped gently on it and waited for an answer. None was forthcoming and he began to worry. He couldn't hear the sound of the shower running so knew that wasn't the likely cause of Sam not answering his knock.

Pushing the door the rest of the way open, he stepped fully into the room calling Sam's name softly. The room was still in semi-darkness and he could make out the Sam's form curled up in the center of the bed. The oddity of the younger man still sleeping surprised Al. To Sam, sleeping in meant 7:15 – not 8:30.

He approached the side of the bed and gently shook Sam's hip and called his name to wake him.

"Mmmm what?" Sam asked muzzily cracking one eye open to peer sleepily up at Al. "Why you waking me?"

"Do you know what time it is?" Al asked.

"Time?" Sam asked muzzily as he rolled over onto his back and rubbed at his face. "You woke me up to ask me what time it is? Look at a clock."

Al let out a little chuckle at Sam's disorientation. "It's almost 8:30. I was surprised you were still in bed. You don't normally sleep this late," Al explained.

At Al's mention of 8:30 Sam opened his eyes wide and quickly sat up. "It can't be that late," he denied before looking over to the bedside clock to see that it indeed was as late as Al had said.

"It is. Are you feeling ok?" Al reached out a hand to press against Sam's forehead still concerned as to the underlying reason for the younger man oversleeping.

"I'm fine and would you quit it," Sam groused brushing Al's hand away. "Just because I sleep late doesn't mean there's automatically something wrong. Sam threw back the covers preparatory to getting out of bed and waited until Al had backed away to give him room. "If you must know," he continued swinging his legs around so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, "I had trouble sleeping last night. I ended up having to get up and take one of the painkillers so that's probably why I overslept."

"But you're ok now?" Al again questioned.

"Fine," Sam grumbled getting tired of the line of questioning. "Just go out in the kitchen and get some coffee or something going and I'll be out in a few minutes."

His concern that it was something dire that had kept Sam in bed late appeased, Al went to the kitchen and did Sam's bidding. When the younger man joined him a little while later he still looked like he was half-asleep.

"Here, drink this," Al said putting a cup of coffee down in front of Sam as soon as he sat. "It's good and strong so that should perk you up."

"Thanks," Sam said before taking a deep gulp of the coffee ignoring how hot it was. "Sorry I was kinda grumpy. Guess I'm not used to oversleeping." A yawn nearly split his face in two as he finished speaking.

"I've got a feeling you should have stayed in bed a little longer."

Sam waved off Al's concern. "I'll be fine as soon as the coffee kicks in."

A non-committal grunt was Al's answer to the statement. "Bacon and eggs ok with you for breakfast?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's fine," Sam agreed getting up from his place at the table.

"Sit," Al said putting a hand on Sam's shoulder and pushing him back to the chair. "I think I can handle making bacon and eggs and I'll make less of mess of the kitchen than you would."

It had been a long-running joke between Al and Sam. Although Sam's abilities in the kitchen were a match for Al's, his ability to make a complete and utter mess far surpassed the older man's. Often in the past Al had said that when Sam cooked a meal it looked like the aftermath of a tornado blowing through.

"You know, Al, any other day I'd argue with you but today I have to agree. I don't have it in me to clean up the mess if I cooked. I think I can handle setting the table, though." He may have been willing to yield the cooking duties to Al, but Sam wasn't prepared to just sit idly and be served.

"Just try not to make a new set of dishes," Al advised while cracking eggs into a bowl.

Al finished cooking their breakfast in record time – using a minimum of cooking utensils. As soon as they were done eating, he sent Sam off to get dressed for the day while he washed the dishes they'd used. He was happy to see that as he'd eaten and drunk more coffee, Sam had become more awake and alert.

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They decided on cleaning the guest bedroom first. Since it was the smaller of the two rooms, it would take the least amount of time to get it set to rights. What Al didn't bargain on was Sam being even more of a perfectionist in this room than he'd been in the others. He wasn't content simply to move the bed out of the way to vacuum under it. Instead, he quite literally had them start at the top of the room and work their way down.

Al had sent Sam ahead to start what he could in the room while he went out on the patio to indulge in a cigar – something he hadn't done very much of in the days he'd been staying at Sam's. Sam may have tolerated Al's smoking but he didn't like it. He'd never said anything specifically but Al had always had the sneaking suspicion that Sam wouldn't have welcomed it in the house. To that end, he always made sure to go outside when he smoked. As long he was in Sam's home, he would respect his wishes.

"What the hell are you doing?" Al exclaimed when he got in the room.

Sam was perched at the top of a ladder he'd brought into the room reaching up to unscrew the light fixture from the ceiling. When he heard Al's voice behind him, he startled, nearly falling from the ladder.

"Are you trying to break your neck?" Al asked impatiently standing at the foot of the ladder.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Sam countered just a quickly.

Al reached up and clamped a hand in the back of Sam's waistband. "Get down from there," he ordered giving a gentle tug.

"No, I'm not done yet," Sam answered again reaching for the fixture.

"Sa-am, I'm not kidding around. Get down from there. Whatever you think you're doing isn't worth you breaking your neck." Al didn't let go of his hold on Sam and again gave a tug to urge him down.

"All right," Sam relented. "Stop trying to yank my pants off already."

Sam carefully descended the ladder until he was again on level with Al.

"Just what the hell did you think you were doing up there? Don't you have enough problems without trying to add more to the mix? How stupid can you be climbing a ladder with one arm immobilized." Now that Sam was back on solid ground, Al's concern and fear quickly bled over to anger. He realized too late, though, that "stupid" was exactly the wrong word to use.

Sam didn't say anything. He just stared at Al through narrowed eyes before pushing him aside and angrily leaving the room. The next thing Al heard was the slamming of the bedroom door.

He wiped his hand across his face. "Brilliant, Calavicci, just brilliant. Why don't you just give him a kick while you're at it?" He looked at the ladder then up at the fixture Sam seemed bound and determined to get down and couldn't fathom why. As far as he could tell, the light bulbs were working perfectly so there shouldn't be any cause to remove it. He waited a few minutes to give Sam a chance to calm down before following him to his bedroom.

"Sam?" he questioned knocking lightly at the door. When there was no answer, he tried calling his name again. "I'm sorry," he added. When there was still no answer, he tried the doorknob thinking that maybe Sam just didn't want to have to invite him into the room. When he tried to turn it, he discovered that the lock was engaged. "Sam," he tried again. "Look, Kid, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Open the door….please."

Again there was no answer but if he listened carefully, he could hear the sound of movement back and forth in the room. He decided to try another tact. "You know, if we don't get a move on with that room it's not going to be ready by the time your mother gets here."

That seemed to work as the door was pulled open with a vengeance. "I'm not stupid, and I'm not crippled," Sam said jabbing his finger at Al's face. "And I'm not made out of fine china and I'm not going to break at the least little thing."

"I know that, Sam."

"Do you really?" Sam questioned cocking his head to the side. "From my side of things I really don't think you do. Geez, do you really think I'd do something that's dangerous?"

Al thought hard before he answered but despite the warning alarm that went off in his head decided to go with the truth. "Yeah, as a matter of fact I think you would. Maybe you don't see it about yourself but when you've got your mind set on doing something you go right ahead and do it and sometimes you forget to weigh the personal risks involved. You think about whether it'll hurt someone else but you don't think about yourself. I'll admit, calling you stupid was dead wrong of me but it doesn't take away from the fact that you were doing something dangerous and it scared me."

"It scared you?" Sam questioned as if that thought hadn't crossed his mind.

"Yeah, you nut, it scared me. How do you think I would have felt if I'd come into that room a few minutes later and found you sprawled on the floor instead? I may have over reacted but it doesn't take away from the fact that you could have hurt yourself worse than you already are."

"I never thought of that," Sam said quietly, almost to himself. "I just thought you didn't think I could do anything – not that you were worried."

"Well, I was. Do you mind telling me what you were doing on that ladder anyway?"

"Pulling the light down so I could clean it."

"Ok. Why do you need to clean the light?"

"Because, it's dusty. I don't want Mom to look up and see how disgusting it is so I was going to take it down and wash it."

"Sam, I don't think your Mom's going to lie in bed with the light on just to see if there's a little extra dust on it." Seeing the look on Sam's face, Al quickly backtracked. "Ok, the light needs to be cleaned but I'm gonna climb the ladder, not you."

Sam gave a short nod of agreement and the two went back into the guestroom to continue with the cleaning. They were just putting the finishing touches on it when lunch time rolled around. Deciding that neither of them wanted to go through the fuss of having to cook or clean up, they settled on sandwiches that were quickly made and eaten without leaving much mess behind.

With lunch out of the way, they set about tackling the living room. Though the room was large, there wasn't a lot of furniture in it. The back of the room that fronted on the patio was where Sam had arranged the grouping of couches and armchair in front of the entertainment center and fireplace.

At the other end of the room, in the alcove that would have been earmarked for a dining room set, Sam had instead put his piano. The upright wasn't new by any means having stood for many years in the Beckett home but it was lovingly cared for. It was placed strategically in front of the bay window that overlooked the front yard. The only other furniture in the alcove was the wood file cabinet that Sam stored his sheet music in.

"If we move the piano over to the wall where the file cabinet is we can stick the tree right in front of the window," Al said after surveying the room and decided it would be the best and most logical place for the tree.

"Where do we put the file cabinet?" Sam asked surveying the room himself.

"Right up flush with the back of the couch. If we do that there's still plenty of room to walk between it and the bookcases," Al suggested turning around to look at the rest of the room.

Sam quietly looked at the spot Al had suggested picturing in his mind what the proposed arrangement would look like and nodded his agreement. "We should start down that end first, then."

Within an hour and a half, they had the end of the room with the couches as clean as it possibly could be. All that was left was moving the furniture around. Al gave the file cabinet an experimental tug and realized that although it would move easily over the wood floor it would move much more easily if it were empty. He and Sam set to work emptying the drawers and stacking the music neatly out of the way.

When it came time to move the file cabinet, Al shooed off any help Sam tried to give. After some huffing and puffing, he had it in place behind the couch. He was very grateful that Sam hadn't carpeted the whole room but had instead opted to keep the wood floors with just an area carpet in front of the seating arrangement.

Once the sheet music was returned to its place in the drawers, they turned their attention to moving the piano. Al might have been able to move the file cabinet without Sam's help but there was no way he'd be able to do the same with the piano.

"Face it Al, even with one good arm you need me to help you move it," Sam said leaning on the piano.

"Yeah, you're right but I want to make sure we don't do anything to screw up that shoulder. Go get the immobilizer and that elastic bandage you were using the other day."

Once Sam had brought the requested items back, Al had him sit down on the piano bench while he completely immobilized Sam's left arm. After wrapping the immobilizer in place that would keep Sam's upper arm bound to his chest, he then took the elastic bandage and used that to bind his lower arm in place as well. When Al was done, the only thing Sam could move were his fingers.

"Ok, now you push that end with your right hip and nothing else," Al said once they were ready to move the piano. "Let me do the bulk of the work."

Sam nodded in agreement. "Just don't jar it too much. I don't think I could get someone out here to tune it before Christmas Eve if we throw it out of whack."

After much huffing, puffing, and straining, they finally managed to move the piano against the wall and out from in front of the window.

Al collapsed onto the bench and wiped his brow. "This thing is staying put until you've got two good arms to help me move it with."

"That's gonna be about six months," Sam said from where he'd dropped to the floor in front of the window.

"So, you expecting 'House Beautiful' before then?"

"No. Just that this space is going to look lopsided if I leave it all like this."

Al blew out a breath. "You're trying to kill me, I just know it."

Sam gracefully pushed up from the floor chuckling. "You've caught on to my nefarious plan." He took the few steps necessary to be in front of Al. "Can you get this off of me now?"

Once the bandage and immobilizer had been removed, Sam started for the garage.

"Where are you going?" Al asked from his place still sitting on the piano bench.

Sam didn't stop to answer, just called back to Al. "Out to the garage. I want to get an empty box from there."

"What do you need an empty box for?" Al asked as he got up and followed Sam out to the garage.

Sam quickly secured the sought after box and was walking back in the door just as Al came out. He backed up just before they could collide. "I need to put the stuff on the top of the entertainment center into it," he explained and waited for Al to back out of the doorway so he could get back in the house.

"Why do I feel like I'm pulling teeth?" Al asked himself as he followed Sam through the house and back to the living room. "Why do you need to put the stuff from on top of the entertainment center into a box?"

"Because," Sam answered as he started to place the objects in the box. "This is where the nativity's going to go so I need to make room for it." He stopped what he was doing and turned to face Al. "Are we done with the interrogation now or do you want to keep playing 20 Questions?" he asked with his eyebrows raised.

"Where do you want to put that?" Al shot back with a smirk.

Sam returned Al's smirk with one of his own before answering. "Uh, I hadn't thought of that." Sam said looking down to the box at his feet. "I guess it can go back out in the garage."

Al picked up the box to take it out to the garage. "Do me a favor," he said before leaving the living room. "Sit down for a while and ice your shoulder like you're supposed to. You haven't done it all day and you're supposed to be doing it at least six times a day." Al didn't wait for Sam to answer before he left the room.

When he came back in from the garage, Al was irritated to see that Sam hadn't sat down like he'd asked but was, instead, putting away the cleaning supplies that they'd used. Though he was tempted to say something and nag at Sam, Al bit off what he was going to say. Sam was an adult and could make his own decisions.

Eventually Sam did settle on the couch with the icepack on his shoulder and a book propped open in his lap. He only sat for about 5 minutes before he popped up again and went over the fireplace and started a fire. Once it was blazing cheerily, he sat back down on the couch with his book. The sun had already started to set and the lamp beside the couch coupled with the glow from the fire gave the room a warm, cheery look.

"How does some pasta with marinara sauce sound to you?"

"Sounds good," Sam said glancing up from the book. "I'll come give you a hand with it."

"No. You just stay put." When Sam looked ready to protest Al further explained, "No offence, Kid, but I can make it a lot faster with a lot less mess if I don't have your help. You sit there, read your book and ice that shoulder down and I'll call you when it's ready."

"I think I should be insulted," Sam said, "but I'm not."

It didn't take very long for Al to finish their meal or for them to eat it and clean up from it. Once again, they settled on the couch to relax. This time Sam brought some folders with him working on what needed to be done to get the project off the ground and running. He didn't work on it long before his attention drifted to the TV. The two decided to call it a night at midnight heading off to their respective rooms.


	6. December 21, 1987 pt 1

**Monday, December 21, 1987**

Sam and Al were both up and out of bed and had eaten breakfast by 8:00. Sam had a 9:00 appointment with Dr. Elliot so they left the house as soon as possible in the event there was any traffic. Al left Sam off at door of the medical building at the hospital and told him he'd be back from getting the Christmas tree by the time he was done with his appointment.

He drove to the nearest Christmas tree lot that was, thankfully, already opened for business. Surveying the trees on offer, Al made his selection confident that Sam would like the tree as much as he did. He took the tree over to where a cash register had been set up and paid for it – adding a tree stand to his purchase. With the assistance of one of the workers at the lot, he secured it to the top of his car and returned to Sam's house where he dragged the tree inside and set it up in the tree stand. He made sure that the stand was filled with water to be sure the tree wouldn't dry out.

Satisfied with his placement of the tree, Al got back into the car to drive back to the hospital. He was hopeful that he'd make it back before Sam's appointment was finished or not too long afterwards. When he drove up to the front of the building, he saw Sam sitting out front on a bench and he didn't look at all happy.

"How long have you been waiting?" Al asked when Sam got in the car.

"Not long, maybe 5 minutes," Sam answered.

"So why the long face? I thought I'd kept you waiting a heck of a lot longer than that when I saw you." Al eased the car out into traffic heading in the direction of Sam's house.

Sam held up a small piece of paper so that Al could see it. "We need to stop at the pharmacy before going home," he said rather morosely.

Al's head whipped around in Sam's direction at the mention of having to stop at a pharmacy. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing really," Sam sighed. "My white count was a little elevated so Dr. Elliot wants to start me on a course of antibiotics as a prophylactic measure. There's no specific infection and he wants to prevent one."

"Is this because of the surgery?" Though he was still concerned that Sam had been prescribed the antibiotic, Al felt confident that if the problem were truly serious Sam would let him know.

"Maybe. It's probably just my body's response to it. Dr. Elliot checked the incision and he spoke with Dr. Stone and there's definitely no sign of an infection in my shoulder." Sam leaned his head back against the headrest obviously unhappy with the turn of events. "It could explain why I've been tired the last couple of days. I thought it was because of taking the painkillers."

The pharmacy was close to the hospital and Al pulled up in front of it in a short amount of time. "Why don't you let me run that in and you wait here," he suggested putting out his hand for the prescription.

"Why don't **I** take it in and **you** wait for me," Sam countered. "This is just a preventative, Al. I'm not sick so let's not start acting like I am, ok?" He pulled the door open and stepped out to the sidewalk. "I'll just be a couple of minutes," he said before closing the door firmly and going into the pharmacy.

Sam wasn't in the pharmacy more than 10 minutes before he came back out. "It won't be ready for an hour," he informed Al as he got in the car and buckled the seatbelt. "Did you get the tree?" he asked as Al pulled back out into traffic.

"Got it and I already took it back to the house and set it up in the tree stand. It should be ready for lights and decorations tonight."

"You got a small one, right?" Sam asked looking over to Al. When Al didn't answer right away, he repeated the question. "It's small, right? Al? You got a big one didn't you?" Sam deduced when Al kept his silence.

"I got the perfect size for the space," Al remarked defensively. "It's not too small and it's not too big. It's just right."

"Al, this is a Christmas tree we're talking about not something out of _Goldilocks and the Three Bears_. Ok, before we do anything else, let's head back home so I can see how big this tree is and figure out how much stuff we're going to need to get."

"You don't trust me?" Al asked turning innocent eyes on Sam.

Sam took one look at Al's innocent look and knew it for the sham it was. "In this instance, no, I don't. If I know you, you got something big enough to put in the town square."

"You'll see, it's just perfect," Al once again reassured though he turned in the direction of Sam's house.

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When they got in the house, Sam made a beeline for the living room while Al went into the kitchen to get something to drink. From what Sam had seen from the front window as they were driving up, he had a feeling his guess about the size of the tree was about to be confirmed.

"Al? What the hell is this?" Sam called out. He was standing in the doorway to the living room looking in shock at Al's choice of a Christmas tree.

Al paused on his way to the kitchen and backtracked to join Sam at the living room doorway. "It's a Christmas tree, Sam, just like you asked me to get."

Sam shook his head back and forth in denial. "No, this isn't a Christmas tree. This," he said gesturing to the stately evergreen in front of the window, "this is a whole damned forest. What happened to 'do me a big favor and get a small tree'? Sam got closer to the tree taking it in from all sides. It sat square in front of the window overlooking the front yard and it took up nearly the whole space between the walls with just enough room left over for the piano Once it was decorated its lights would be easily seen from outside at night.

Al stood behind Sam in the living room admiring his choice of trees. "It's the perfect size for that space and the room as a whole. Anything smaller would have looked like something Charlie Brown would choose."

"I like Charlie Brown," Sam pointed out. "This is huge." Sam looked up to the top of the tree that was over his head and estimated that it had to be at least half a foot taller than him – if not more. There was enough room between the top of the tree and ceiling to allow the star to be placed there but that was about it. "Why'd you get one so big?"

"Stop worrying about it," Al said dropping a hand down on Sam's shoulder. "Once it's done, it's going to be beautiful…trust me" he assured Sam. He gave him a quick pat on the shoulder before heading back in the direction of the kitchen.

Sam followed Al from the living room talking non-stop. "Once it's done it's going to look pathetic and half-done. That's what it's going to look like. How many ornaments do you think I have? You saw them when I went through them the other day. I don't have enough for that monstrosity.

Al reached the kitchen and turned to face Sam where he still stood in the hallway. "You got any of those Valium left that Dr. Elliott gave you when we flew out to DC?"

"No, Dr. Elliot only gave me enough for the flights and that was it. Why?" The sudden change in topic clearly confused Sam and he couldn't even begin to guess why Al would want Valium.

"If you had any left I was going to tell you to take them and calm down. You're starting to babble like a lunatic. I'm starting to picture the duct tape over your mouth. It's just a Christmas tree, Kid, it's not the fate of the free world."

Sam took a deep breath visibly trying to calm himself. After all, Al was right. It was just a Christmas tree and he was starting to carry on just a bit. "I just want things to be perfect when Mom gets here. I'm sorry if I'm getting a little crazy."

"A little. Kid, right now, you're making the inmates in the looney bin look sane. Now just take a deep breath and calm down. Why don't we eat an early lunch and then we'll go back out. After we pick up your prescription from the pharmacy, we'll do some shopping and pick up whatever else you don't have to decorate the tree. Okay?" Al waited until he got an affirmative nod from Sam before starting with lunch preparations.

"Have I really been that bad?" Sam asked leaning against the kitchen doorway and watching as Al pulled lunch fixings from the cupboards and out of the refrigerator.

"Nah, you could be a whole lot worse. Just try to lighten up and stop worrying. She's your mother and I bet anything you do she's going to think is perfect."

Sam wandered over to the island counter opening up the loaf of bread that Al had put there and pulled out enough for the two of them. "I know that. It's just that this is the first time she's coming to where I live for the holidays. Everything was always perfect when I was growing up. I don't want things to be strange for her."

"The only thing that's going to be strange is if you're sitting in a corner in a straitjacket because you've driven yourself crazy." Al finished making the sandwiches and carried them over to the table while Sam pulled some cold drinks out of the fridge.

"I'll try to calm down," Sam assured him sitting at the table.

"Good," Al said adding a bag of chips to the bounty on the table and taking a seat himself. "I was starting to think if you didn't I'd have to break up your painkillers and slip them in your food since you don't have any more of the Valium. Let's finish with lunch now so we can go get the shopping out of the way, come back here and get the decorating out of the way tonight. We get that done and you might get a chance to relax some before we pick up your mother tomorrow so you don't look like the walking dead."

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Their first stop after leaving the house was the pharmacy. While Al waited in the car, Sam ran in to pick his prescription. It was ready when he got to the counter and he was back out to the car with it and a bottle of water in just under 10 minutes. "If the stores are that easy to get through this should be a breeze," he commented after taking one of the pills.

"Where to?" Al asked before pulling the car out of the parking space.

"I don't know. How about if we just hit WalMart?" Sam suggested. "It should have everything we need without costing a fortune."

"WalMart?" Al questioned making a face. "I hate WalMart. Isn't there someplace else we can go?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd want to drive an hour and half to Albuquerque just to avoid WalMart. There's a Target there."

Al pulled out into traffic. "No, we're gonna make that drive already tomorrow. We'll just go to WalMart since it's close by. I'm doing this under duress, though," he said turning quickly to Sam and then back to the road.

"You're the one who bought the forest, not me," Sam reminded Al.

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If there was one place Al didn't want to be caught dead in, it was a WalMart. Yet here he was walking through the doors into one. "We're gonna make this fast, get what we need, and get out," he said grabbing an empty shopping cart and surveying the crowds already waiting at the registers. It didn't take much to figure out that no matter how quickly they got what they needed, it still wasn't going to be quick.

He pushed the cart toward the "seasonal department" with Sam trailing along behind him. The first stop was the row with the many boxes of tree lights. Al grabbed the first boxes that he saw, tossing them into the carriage. They happened to be white.

"Not those," Sam said scooping them out and putting them back on the shelf neatly. He surveyed the lights on offer, grabbed several different boxes, and put them in the cart.

"What was wrong with the ones I had?" Al asked mystified.

"Nothing except that they're white." Sam answered without offering any more explanation.

If anything, Sam's answer served only to confuse Al even more. "So what's wrong with white lights?"

"They look too sterile and cold. The colored lights will give the tree a homey feel instead of it looking like a department store."

"If you say so but they are not going to blink. There's nothing more annoying that a tree blinking on and off." Al pushed the cart off in the direction of the other decorating paraphernalia that they needed.

"Ok, we know the ornaments you have aren't going to be enough to fill out the tree," Al said stopping in front of shelves stacked with varying Christmas tree ornaments. "The easiest thing to do would probably be to just get some plain balls. That way the ornaments you do have will show up more."

Sam carefully looked over the offerings and was dismayed when Al reached for the boxes of satin wrapped ornaments. "Oh, Al, not those. Anything but those."

"What's wrong with these?" Al asked once more mystified by what it was about his choice that upset Sam so much. "They're bright colors and they won't break if they get dropped." Unlike the lights, Al didn't relent and firmly placed the boxes in the cart.

Not to be outdone, Sam started to pile in boxes of glass bulbs in the cart as well. "The glass ones reflect the lights and make the tree look all twinkly."

"Twinkly?" Al repeated with a chuckle. "Is that even a word? I swear, Sam, either you've been taking those Percosets without telling me or you regress by about 30 years when you get close to Christmas. Twinkly." Still laughing, Al took the glass ornaments out of the cart and started stacking them back on the shelf.

"Yes, twinkly," Sam said firmly as he took the boxes Al had put on the shelf and put them back in the cart. "I like this kind. I don't like those."

"Well, I like these," Al said defending his choice of the satin balls. "I can't believe we're even having this argument. Taking in Sam's mulish look, Al realized that Sam wasn't going to give in on the ornament controversy. "Ok, how about a compromise, we'll get some of each."

Sam thought about Al's offer for a moment before finally agreeing to it. After all, it was as much Al's tree as it was his.

"Better grab some of those ornament hooks," Al advised. The last thing he needed was to get all the way back to the house only to discover that there was no way to hang anything on the tree. Sam grabbed a couple of packages and tossed them in the cart.

Their next stop was to pick something to put on the top of the tree. The angel that had always had pride of place when Sam was growing up had been passed on to Katie. Al breathed a sigh of relief when Sam readily agreed to the simple light-up star he suggested. He'd thought the trip would be easy – grab some ornaments, some lights and head out. He'd never dreamed that Sam would be so fussy about what went on a Christmas tree.

While Al stopped to pick through some rolls of wrapping paper, Sam went ahead to grab some of the other items they'd need. He came back carrying several lengths of gold garland and a several boxes of silver tinsel.

"What the hell is that?" Al asked gesturing to Sam's treasures.

"Tinsel and garland," Sam answered matter-of-factly dropping the objects in question into the shopping cart.

"You've got to be kidding me. Aren't you the one who's always giving me grief about my wardrobe? Geez, Sam, don't you think you're bordering on tacky with all that."

He hadn't bargained on the hurt look on Sam's face. "I thought everyone used this," Sam said crestfallen. "You don't like it?"

"It's not that I don't like it," Al explained eager to wipe the hurt look away. "I just think it might be too much. Why don't you just get one or the other? Maybe stick with the garland since it's a lot less messy."

"Ok, Al, if that's what you want." Sam grabbed the boxes of tinsel out of the cart to put back. He was agreeing with Al but clearly, he wasn't happy with the decision. "Do you mind grabbing some candy canes while I put these back? They were over on the first row. I like to melt them in hot chocolate."

"Yeah, sure thing, Kid," Al agreed eager to do anything that would make Sam happy. He didn't understand why but it seemed since they'd walked through the doors of the store Sam had been cycling through emotions at the speed of light. I'll just leave this here since you're gonna be nearby." Al hurried off to retrieve the candy canes leaving the shopping cart in place. What he didn't see when he turned his back was the mischievous grin that came over Sam's face as he carefully slipped the boxes of tinsel under the boxes of Christmas ornaments where Al wouldn't see them until it was too late.

When Al got back to Sam with the candy canes, he was leaning on the shopping cart waiting for him. He seemed to be ok with Al's opinion on the tinsel. They were able to pick out the last few items they needed and head to the registers without any more disagreements or discussions.

The lines at the registers were long but, as Sam pointed out, if they'd come later when everyone was out of work they'd be even longer. Finally, it was their turn and Al started taking the items from the cart piling them up on the conveyor belt. The last items in the cart were the three boxes of tinsel.

"How'd these get in here?" he asked holding them up for Sam to see.

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe they fell," Sam said with a wide-eyed, innocent, 'who-me' look. "I put them back like you said."

"Uh huh. You put 'em back all right. You put 'em back right in the cart. I thought we'd decided not to get them." Just as Al was about to give the boxes to the cashier and tell her they didn't want them, it had been a mistake, he made the mistake of looking over at Sam. "Aw geez, Kid, don't do that."

"Do what?" Sam asked still with wide-eyed innocence.

"Don't make that face. You look like a cocker spaniel and you know I always agree when you make that face."

"I'm not making any face. This is how I always look. If you don't want them we don't have to get them."

Al rubbed a hand over his face. Sam had done it to him yet again. "Forget it," he told the cashier throwing the boxes of tinsel down on top of everything else. "We'll get 'em."

The cashier who'd witnessed the interplay between the two men could only laugh.

"You must have been torture on your parents when you were a kid if you pulled that on them."

"Only on Dad," Sam said with a laugh. "I think Mom was immune."

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"Ok," Al said putting the last of the bags in the trunk of the car, "that should be everything we need. Let's head home now and start getting this stuff up.?"

"That's sounds like a great idea," Sam agreed getting into the passenger seat. "How 'bout we stop and get something to eat first. I know just the place we can go."

The eager smile on Sam's face made Al very cautious. "Oh yeah? Where might that be?"

Sam's smile faded suddenly and he squirmed in his seat. "The…uh…the food court at the mall?'

"The mall?!" Al exclaimed horrified at the thought of having to traipse through the mall. "Are you nuts? You want to go to the mall three days before Christmas to get something to eat?" Al turned in the seat so he was facing Sam who tried to shrink into the seatback in the face of Al's reaction.

"Well, I don't want to go there just to eat," Sam began. Clearly, he was hedging around the truth.

"Don't tell me, you need to go sit on Santa's lap and tell him you've been a good boy this year," Al joked.

Sam didn't dignify the joke with a response. He looked over to Al, his lips pressed together and his eyes slits. "I need to go to the jeweler and pick up Mom's Christmas gift. It's supposed to be ready today."

Al sighed and turned to face the front of the car starting the engine and backing out of the parking space. "I know I'm going to hate myself for asking this but…why wasn't it ready before today?"

"Because I didn't pick out what I was going to get her until last Wednesday and then I had to wait for it to be ready."

Al maneuvered the car to join the line of other holiday shoppers trying to make their way out of the parking lot. "I don't suppose it occurred to you to go Christmas shopping for your mother before then?"

Sam leaned his elbow along the door and propped his chin in his hand looking out the front window at the cars in front of them. Judging by the sheer volume and the duration the light at the parking lot entrance stayed green, they'd be there for at least 2-3 more cycles. "I kind of got busy and forgot. I would have been ok if we hadn't had to go to DC when we did. When we got back, I had the pre-op appointment and I had to get Katie and Jim's stuff wrapped up and sent to them. Going out for Mom sort of got pushed until later."

"'Sorta' he says," Al muttered just loud enough for Sam to hear. He started to inch forward with the traffic but had to stop suddenly when another car came out of nowhere and tried to sneak into the row of traffic in front of him. "Nozzle!" Al screamed out. "What am I? Invisible?" In a more conversational tone he turned to Sam, "this is why I hate going out Christmas shopping this close to the day. Every idiot on the road forgets how to drive."

"Aren't you one of the 'idiots on the road'?" Sam pointed out rationally.

"I wouldn't push my luck if I were you," Al advised. "Ok, besides your mother's gift do you need to do any other Christmas shopping while we're out? I'd like to be prepared beforehand."

When there was no answer immediately forthcoming from Sam, Al turned in his direction. "Well, do you?"

Sam was again squirming in his seat obviously not wanting to confess the truth to Al. "Weee-llll, I sorta need to pick up a few other things while we're there," he finally answered. He'd angled his head down to his lap but lifted his eyes enough to see Al out of the corner of them. "I meant to get it done sooner," he offered as an apology.

_I'm not going to look at him. I'm not going to look at him_ Al chanted silently to himself. He knew if he did look over to Sam, he'd see the puppy dog look plastered on his face. The kid had figured out it was a good way around Al's defenses and Al was starting to think he should just patent it. Finally, he couldn't resist anymore and glanced over. Sure enough, Sam had the full on "puppy look" going. There was just no way you could get mad at him looking like that. Al settled for sighing again. "How much of your Christmas shopping did you manage to do before today?"

"Katie and Jim," Sam said so fast Al could barely understand him.

"Oh boy," Al responded.


	7. December 21, 1987 pt 2

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The drive to the mall ended up being a test of Al's patience. It didn't matter if it was a Monday afternoon. All that mattered was that it was December 21st and everyone was out doing their last minute Christmas shopping. The drive that should have taken mere minutes ended up lasting 20 followed by another 15 minutes of lapping the parking lot at the mall before he could find a parking space. The more frustrated Al got, the quieter Sam became realizing the last thing he wanted to do was light the match to Al's fuse.

"You want to grab something to eat first?" Sam asked once the car was parked and they were both out of it.

"Might as well start with that," Al said eyeing the mall skeptically. Shopping malls weren't among his favorite places to go at the best of times but at the height of the Christmas shopping season, Al considered it some kind of mental suicide.

Once they actually got in the doors of the mall Al made sure to stay on Sam's left side to offer whatever kind of buffer he could to the kid's bad shoulder. Since their plans hadn't included a trip to the shopping mall, Sam didn't have the immobilizer with him leaving his shoulder vulnerable.

Chaos was the only word that could describe the interior of the place. Tinny Christmas music played over the PA system but the sound of children screaming was overriding it. Bells seemed to ring in every direction and Al was beginning to have trouble thinking over the cacophony. By the time they made it to the food court, he was ready to kill someone and it didn't seem that Sam was much better off.

"Sit here and wait for me," Al said shoving Sam in the direction of a recently vacated table. Sam had been jostled a few times on their trip to the food court and Al was anxious to get him out of the line of fire, as it were. He was also starting to look drawn and tired to Al's eyes and he thought it would do him some good to just sit and rest. "I'll go grab us something and bring it back."

Fifteen minutes later Al plopped a tray from McDonald's on the table in front of Sam. "Shut up and eat it and don't complain if you don't like it," Al advised.

Sam snatched one of the wrapped burgers off the tray, peeled the wrapper off of it and quickly started munching on it. "I don't care what it is," he said around the mouthful of food. "I'm starving."

"So what else is new?" Al asked as he watched Sam devour the hamburger and reach for another one.

They ended up eating their meal in less time than it took Al to get it. They deposited the remains of it in the trash and headed off in the direction of the jeweler Sam had purchased Thelma's present at. They passed several Salvation Army bell ringers between the food court and the jewelers and every time they did, Sam would stop and dig some money out of his pocket dropping it into the bucket. Al remembered that he'd done the same thing both going into and coming out of WalMart.

"You keep that up and you're gonna be the one who needs charity," Al observed.

"I already have," Sam answered cryptically but didn't seem inclined to enlighten Al.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Al prompted.

Sam shrugged not eager to relate the story in the middle of a crowded mall. "It's a long story but the gist of it is that if it weren't for people like them I wouldn't have had much of a Christmas when I was three. I can't walk by and not drop something in.

Though Sam's answer was still cryptic, it was enough for Al to understand that supporting charities like the Salvation Army at Christmas was important to Sam. He'd always tried to drop a dollar or two in when he could but now he had a hunch he'd be as generous as his friend was.

After dodging many other shoppers along the way, they finally made it to the jewelers. As they walked through the door, a very fashionably dressed woman walked past them in the opposite direction.

"Whew," Sam said waving a hand in front of his face after she was out of earshot. "Nice perfume but I really don't think she should marinate in it."

They had to wait a few minutes until it was Sam's turn at the counter. The small box with the item he'd purchased was produced for his inspection. After assuring the woman at the counter that he was quite pleased with it, he handed over his credit card to pay.

With Thelma's gift secured in Sam's coat pocket, the two headed off through the mall to finish the rest of Sam's Christmas shopping. Eventually Sam sent Al off so that he could get the items he wanted to gift the older man with. Al took advantage of the time to pick up a few small gifts for Sam that struck his fancy when he saw them.

An hour later they met up at the door they'd come in. Sam's one good arm was loaded down with bags, he had to dodge a few times to prevent his left shoulder from being bumped. He looked even more tired than when they'd started the trip. Al noticed, though, that he also seemed quite pleased with himself and his purchases.

Once Sam reached the door, Al grabbed some of the bags he was carrying from him with the promise that he wouldn't look into any of them. They left the mall to find that while they'd been inside the sun had set and the temperature had dropped.

Securing the bags in the trunk of the car, the two men once again resumed their places in the front seat and Al once more joined a long line of vehicles trying to exit the parking lot.

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When they got back to the house Sam grabbed his bags from the mall and took them right back to his room and stored them in the large, walk-in closet. He'd have to do his best to get everything wrapped over the next couple of days but realized that he'd probably do a pretty poor job of it. When he got back to the living room, Al was pulling the decorating paraphernalia they'd bought out of the bags. All of the items meant for the tree he neatly stacked against the wall near the tree. The rest he sorted out onto the couch and filing cabinet.

"I'm going to start by getting these in the windows," he said gesturing to the sets of window lights he'd picked out. Sam had been surprised when Al had picked out the fake, plastic candles and insisted they get enough to put in all the windows. Sam remembered having the same kind of lights back in the farmhouse when he was growing up and had happily agreed. They'd even managed to come to the same decision to use orange bulbs instead of white. While Al put the window lights in place, Sam dragged the box with the nativity over to the entertainment center and started unpacking it, placing the unwrapped pieces on the mantle until he could put them in place.

Sam was pulling the last object out of the box when Al came back into the room. It was a wooden stable that his father had made.

"That looks like it's ready to fall apart," Al said when he saw it.

"It's pretty old. Dad made it for Grandma when he was a kid." Sam set the stable down in its place and caressed the roof of it lovingly. "It's got a lot of years left in it as long as it's treated gently."

While Al finished setting up the window lights in the living room, Sam added the various pieces to the nativity. He was so intent on what he was doing, he never noticed the few times that Al paused in what he was doing to turn and watch him intently.

As Sam moved a shepherd a fraction of an inch for the fourth time, he felt Al's hand come down on the back of his neck. "I think it's perfect, Kid. She'd be happy with it."

"She?" Sam asked looking quizzically at Al.

"You're Grandmother. That's who you were thinking about, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Sam answered softly. "I guess so. She always made sure everything was just so."

"Well trust me, she'd be happy," Al again reassured squeezing the back of Sam's neck gently. "How 'bout we get that tree done now?"

Sam took a deep breath and let it out before turning away from the nativity. "Ok, sounds like a good idea."

"Good. You start going through the ornaments and getting hooks on them and I'll get the lights on tree."

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As he fought to get the lights out of the box, Al realized that getting the tree decorated was going to take longer than he thought. Once the five sets of lights were pulled from their package, he plugged them in to make sure they all lit. There'd be nothing worse than to get the strings of light on the tree only to find out half a string was out because of one bulb. The first four sets proved to work perfectly but the last one only half lit. He went through the bulbs trying to figure out which one was loose three times before he finally got the string to stay lit and he could feel his temper already starting to fray. Sam sat on the floor out of the way putting the ornament hooks on. When he'd opened his mouth to offer his advice regarding the lights, Al had silenced him before he could say anything. Instead, he gracefully pushed himself to his feet and went over the entertainment center. After fiddling around with the stereo the sounds of Bing Crosby crooning about the season soon filled the room.

Now all of the lights were working and Al climbed the ladder to start putting them on the tree. He was halfway done when Sam decided to offer an opinion ignoring the warning look Al gave him. "You're doing it wrong," he said out from his place on the floor.

"What am I doing wrong?" Al asked mystified as to what Sam could be talking about. How many ways could you put on the tree lights?

"The lights," Sam said turning a critical eye to the tree. "You're putting them on wrong."

Al let out a sigh. He was really starting not to enjoy this whole Christmas decorating thing. The last thing he needed after the trouble he'd had with the lights so far was for Sam to tell him he was doing it wrong. "What do you mean I'm putting the lights on wrong? How many ways can there be to put the lights on a damned tree. Don't tell me, let me guess. You really have a secret doctorate in interior decorating." Al was at the end of his rope and try as he might it was getting hard to hold back his temper.

Sam ignored Al's jab. "You're not supposed to go round and round with the lights. You're supposed to go up and down," he calmly explained as if this were a commonly known fact learned while most people were still in the cradle.

"Up and…Sam, it's 10 times easier to just go around with the natural contours of the tree. Why would I want to go up and down?"

Sam shrugged and seemed to struggle for a good reason. "That's the way Dad always did it. Mom said it looked like a spiral if you went around like you're doing. The lights go up and down and you go around with the garland."

Calmly, Al stepped off the ladder and stood over Sam where he sat on the floor. "Let me tell you a little story, Sam."

"Uh, I don't think we really have time for stories," Sam pointed out.

"Oh, we have time for this one 'cause it's gonna help me make my point," Al said with a devilish gleam in his eyes. He squatted down so that he was on eye level with Sam. Did you ever wonder why we put an angel at the top of the tree?"

Cautiously Sam shook his head "no".

"Let me tell you that story. Santa was having a REALLY bad day. The elves had gone on strike, the reindeer had gotten out of the barn and Santa had to round them up in a blizzard, and Mrs. Claus was giving him crap about something. That's when a little angel came up to Santa holding a Christmas tree and asked in a high-pitched, innocent voice, 'Santa, what would you like me to do with this tree?' And Santa answered that innocent little angel telling her where to stick the tree. That's the story of how the Angel got on top of the Christmas tree. Now, do you still want me to change the way the lights are going on the tree 'cause instead of an angel we could just put a physicist on top of it and start a whole new tradition."

"You know, I think going round and round will be a really good change this year," Sam quickly said. "As a matter of fact, let's forget I even said anything." Sam bent back to his work of attaching ornament hooks and studiously ignored Al.

"I thought you'd see it my way," Al said with satisfaction before climbing back up on the ladder. He finished putting the lights on and started in on the garland. He chuckled softly to himself when he noticed that Sam was still keeping his head down and his mouth firmly closed.

Once he was finished with the garland, Al announced that it was time to start putting the decorations on the tree. Sam greeted the announcement with a childlike glee climbing quickly to his feet and over to the tree. His sling came in handy as he'd laid a number of ornaments in it cutting down on how many trips he had to make back and forth to collect them.

Al stood back for a few minutes watching as Sam delicately hung the ornaments on the tree. He seemed to give each one its share of care and attention. Al finally started to help afraid that at the rate Sam was going it would be the next morning before he was done.

"This stuff's pretty old, isn't it?" he asked as he hung a porcelain pair of baby shoes on a branch. 'Sammy' and 1953 had been carefully painted on it.

"Yeah it is and a lot of it's stuff that we made." Sam hung a very lopsided snowflake on the tree that was made up of many small pieces of paper rolled tightly. "I made this when I was in first grade when we went to the Christmas fair at church. They had a room set up for kids to do crafts in." Sam smiled softly at the memory from his childhood. "They had examples of all the different things we could do and Tom picked to do the snowflake so I naturally had to do it, too. The woman who was running it kept telling me it would be too hard to do but I was insistent. She was right. It was hard and halfway through I wanted to give up but Tom wouldn't let me. He stopped making his to help me with mine. Mom hung it in the middle of the tree when we got home and said she was proud of both of us – me for sticking with it even though it was hard and Tom for giving up his so that he could help me." Sam ran his fingers lightly over the snowflake where it dangled from the tree. "I miss him," he said softly before shaking off the melancholy and continuing with the decorating.

It took an hour for them to finally finish decorating the tree. During that time, Sam often related stories and anecdotes about some of the different ornaments. Sometimes Al had a feeling Sam forgot he was even there as he spoke of his memories aloud. He was grateful that Sam trusted him enough to share so much.

"It looks perfect," Al said stepping back to admire their work when the last ornament had been hung.

"Almost perfect, but not quite," Sam said from the other side where he was also admiring the work they'd done.

"Almost?" Al questioned. "What else does it need?"

"The tinsel," Sam said firmly scooping one of the boxes of it off the floor.

"Oh yeah, the tinsel," Al echoed unenthusiastically. "You really sure about that?"

"Sure, I'm sure," Sam answered as he ripped the box open. "You'll see once it's on. The silver will reflect the lights and make it look more…."

"…twinkly," Al supplied with a grin.

"Yeah, twinkly." Sam started to put the tinsel on the branches. He was very precise with how he laid it and when Al suggested it would be quicker to just throw it on he'd shot him a look that questioned his sanity. Eventually Al wandered away to leave the younger man to finish his decorating and instead began to gather up the empty boxes putting the smaller boxes into the larger.

"I'm gonna take these out to the garage," he informed Sam. He waited to see if the younger man would acknowledge what he'd said but he was so intent on his work Al doubted that he'd been heard.

When he came back into the living room to collect the last of the empty boxes, Al saw that Sam had climbed up the ladder to put tinsel on the top of the tree. He held back from chastising him for using the ladder remembering how disastrous that had been yesterday. When he came back after putting the last of the empty boxes away Sam was just climbing back down having finished his tinsel job. Al moved the ladder out of the way while Sam turned off all the lights in the living room until the only ones left were the window lights and the Christmas tree.

"Wow!" Al said when he turned back in the direction of the tree. "Ok, I'll admit it, the tinsel does reflect the light."

"Told you," Sam said though his tone of voice held no smugness. Instead, it held a weary happiness to it.

"I guess this means everything's all set for your Mom now and you can finally relax."

Sam moved backwards and sank down to sit on the piano bench not taking his eyes off the tree. "Uh huh, it's all set now. Mom'll be happy."

"What about you?" Al asked.

The question surprised Sam. "What about me?"

"Are you happy?" Al clarified. "Are you happy with the house and everything?"

Sam looked down at the floor playing with the edge of the sling. "I am," he finally said when he raised his head. Al had a feeling he was talking about more than just the clean house and the Christmas tree. He turned around so that he was facing the piano, opened the cover over the keys and began to play a simple melody that Al immediately recognized as _O Tannenbaum_. It was all he played before again covering the keyboard.

"What time is it," Sam asked as he got up from the piano. He looked over to the digital display on the VCR and was surprised to see the time. "It's 9:00 already. When'd that happen?"

"Probably around the time you started putting the tinsel on strand by strand. Hey, how 'bout we make a fire and relax for a while now."

"That sounds like a good idea," Sam agreed. "You get the fire going and I'll go make us some popcorn. I need to eat something before I can take the antibiotic again. And see if there's a game or something on TV."

When Sam came back in the room with the bowl of popcorn, Al had a roaring fire going and had found a hockey game to watch. Sam handed him an empty bowl that he filled from the popcorn bowl. Once Al had taken his fill, Sam dropped the full bowl down on the coffee table. "I think I'm going to go get changed," he said before going into his bedroom. He came out a few minutes later dressed in a pair of flannel pajamas. He took possession of the bowl of popcorn once more and settled comfortably on the couch to watch the game.

Al waited until Sam was comfortable on the couch before holding out a small, flat box about 3 inches square to Sam. "I was going to give you this for Christmas but I thought you might appreciate it more now."

Curiously, Sam put down the bowl of popcorn, accepted the box from Al, and pulled the cover off of it. Lying on the velvet interior of box was a small brass tree ornament. It was shaped like a door and at the base of it was written "New Home 1987". Engraved across the door itself was the name "Beckett".

Sam looked at the ornament puzzled then up at Al's expectant face. "This is really nice, Al, but I don't understand. I've been living here for a few years now."

"I know that, Kid. It's just that this is the first year that this yours," Al explained holding out an arm to encompass the room and the house as a whole. He looked into the fire as he continued to explain why he'd bought the ornament for Sam and spoke a low voice. "I was walking by one of those engraving stores in the mall and saw that and…well…I just thought it was fitting since this in your first Christmas in a house that you can call yours. I know how important home is to you and all so I just thought…." He snapped his eyes over to Sam and let out a little laugh. "I guess it was kind of foolish."

"No, it's not foolish at all," Sam breathed out as ran his finger over the ornament. "Dad always said home was wherever the people I cared about were." Sam looked up from the ornament, his face an open book of sincerity. "This is the first year that this house is going to be a home for Christmas 'cause Mom and you are going to be here." He took the ornament out of the box and went over to the tree hanging it just below the paper roll snowflake. He stepped back from the tree looking carefully at it's placement before turning back around to where Al was sitting on the couch. "It's very fitting. Thank you."

Al joined Sam standing in front of the tree reaching up a hand to squeeze the back of his neck companionably. "It looks good there, Kid. Like it belongs."

"Yeah, like it belongs," Sam echoed.

The two stood admiring the tree for a few more moments before Al finally broke the quiet. "Ok, enough mush stuff for one night. Time to sit down and relax for the rest of the night."

The two men settled back on their respective seats of choice and nothing more was said of the ornament. Every now and then, though, Sam would feel Al's eyes on him but when he'd look over, Al would quickly switch his focus back to the TV.

It didn't take long before Sam once again fell asleep on the couch. At least now they had a good idea of what was making him so tired. Al knew better than to try to get Sam to go to bed now. He'd just say was resting his eyes and struggle to stay awake. Instead, he took the quilt that was along the back of the couch and spread it over the sleeping man. He'd send him to bed later when he went to bed himself. Al was just finishing putting the quilt over him when the phone rang.

"Hello?" he quietly greeted the caller. He'd grabbed the phone after it had completed its first ring and Sam didn't seem to have been disturbed by it. The person on the other end of the phone was Sam's mother. Al explained to her that Sam was sleeping already and that he didn't want to wake him up. Thelma agreed with him that Sam should be allowed to sleep. She was calling to confirm her flight information of the next day. Al wrote the flight number and arrival time down on the small pad kept near the phone and, after bidding Thelma a good night and assuring her they'd be at the airport on time tomorrow, hung up the phone and settled back to watch the end of the hockey game. Sam hadn't stirred once during the conversation.

The game was over and the 11:00 news was finishing when Al shook Sam awake. "Time to go to bed, Kid."

Sam rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and pushed up straight, knocking the quilt down. "I'm not sleepy, I was just resting," he said although he looked anything but what he claimed.

"Hate to tell you, Sam, but you've been sleeping there for about 2 hours. It's 11:30, time for you to go to bed." Al picked the quilt up from where it had slid to the floor and folded it neatly and put it back in its place on the couch.

"I don't remember falling asleep," Sam said. He hadn't made any move yet to get up from the couch.

"Well, you did. You even slept through your mom's call."

"Mom called? Why didn't you wake me." For a brief moment, Sam shook off his sleepiness at the mention of his missing his mother's call.

"She called to confirm her flight number and the time it's getting in. I told her you were asleep and she didn't want me to wake you up. She said she'd see you tomorrow. Now c'mon, it's time for all good little physicists to go to bed." Al grabbed Sam under the arm and tugged until he stood up from the couch.

"I'm not a little kid," Sam groused though he allowed Al to pull him up and then push him in the direction of his room. "I'm only going to bed because I want to, not because you told me to."

Al followed Sam into his bedroom. While Sam went into bathroom, he smoothed out the sheets and straightened the bed out as much as practical before someone got in it. It was hard for Sam to make the bed and the last few mornings he'd left it as it was when he got up. Al realized tomorrow he'd have to make sure it was made neatly before they left to pick up Thelma.

When Sam came out of the bathroom, he put the immobilizer in place for him and then waited until Sam had stretched out in bed. Once he was sure that the younger man was comfortable, he left the room, turning out the lights and pulling the door closed before turning in himself.


	8. December 22, 1987 pt 1

**Tuesday, December 22, 1987**

Al was the first one up but this time he wasn't surprised that Sam was still sleeping. He'd heard him get up at least twice during the night and guessed that he'd not had a good night. He put a pot of coffee on and while it was brewing, went to take a shower and get dressed. When he came out of the shower, the coffee was ready and Sam was still sleeping. Al decided not to wake him and made himself a quick breakfast of toast to go with the coffee.

Once he was done eating, he jotted down a quick note for Sam. He'd noticed that there was very little milk in the refrigerator and decided now might be a good time to run out and get some. With any luck, he'd miss most of the holiday crowds. He propped the note up against the coffee maker where Sam would be sure to see it.

After checking the living room, foyer, and Sam's office and not finding his house keys, Al quietly crept into Sam's room checking to see if they were in there. He found them on top of the dresser near the closet. Just as he was slipping them in his pocket, he heard the sleepy voice behind him.

"What're you doing?"

Al turned around and saw that Sam had propped himself up on one arm as he blinked owlishly in Al's direction. "What're you doing?" he repeated when Al didn't answer him right away.

"I was looking for your house keys. I was going to go out and pick up some milk and few other things." Al walked across the room and stopped at the side of the bed. "You look like you could sleep for another couple of hours."

Sam dropped back down to the pillow. "I feel like I could sleep for another couple of days. What time is it anyway?"

"7:45. Why don't you see if you can grab a little more sleep while I'm out. The house is all set and we don't have to leave top pick up your mom for a while. You've got plenty of time to just rest. Hell, you probably should have been doing that all along. You haven't gotten much since you had the surgery."

Sam looked up at the ceiling thinking. "Hmmm. Dr. Elliot said I was getting run down. Maybe I should sleep-in." His voice was low almost as if he were talking to himself and not to Al.

"What do you mean Dr. Elliot said you're getting run down? You didn't mention that yesterday."

Sam glanced in Al's direction and bit his lower lip realizing he'd said more than he'd intended. "Uh, nothing. He just said I seemed tired, that's all," Sam lightly explained. "It's nothing, really."

"No way, Kid, I'm not buying whatever it is you're selling me. There's a difference between just being tired and being rundown. You didn't tell me this yesterday because you knew if you did I would have tied you down to keep you still." Al's voice rose in volume as he warmed up to the subject. "Don't you ever think? I don't understand why you keep stuff like this a big secret. Geez, Sam, you're a doctor. You, more than anyone else, should know what's going to happen if you don't take care of yourself. How do you think your mother would feel, huh? Oh sure, you got a clean house and it's all decorated for Christmas and oh, hey, look, there you are passed out under the Christmas tree because you didn't take care of yourself. I don't suppose it ever crossed your mind how your choices affect the rest of us. No, you just push ahead with whatever crazy plan you have and damn the rest of us."

Sam threw his arm over his face as if by doing that he could block out Al's tirade. "I'm sorry," he said when Al paused to take a breath. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. You're right. I knew if I did, you'd nag at me and not let me do anything. I wanted to get things done for Mom." Sam took his arm down and looked at Al. "You're right," he said again simply.

Al took a breath, let it out with a sigh, and sat on the edge of the bed. Sam scooted over to give him room. "I don't want to be right, Kid. I don't even want to be having this conversation. You need to start thinking about yourself, though. You're always thinking about everyone else and Sam ends up way down on the list. You need to start moving yourself up to the top."

"Yeah, I know," Sam said nodding his head in agreement.

"You won't do anyone any good if you end up in the hospital again," Al added. "I'd think you would have had enough of that to last you a good long time."

"Trust me, I have."

"Ok, so is there anything else the doctor told you yesterday that you decided would be your little secret?"

"No, there was nothing else. Aside from my white count being up a little, the blood work they got back yesterday was fine. I'll get the results on the ultrasound next week."

"And you're sure that the antibiotic isn't for anything specific." Al wanted to clarify that and make sure it wasn't something else Sam had decided was on a 'need to know basis'.

Sam sat up in bed before answering Al. "No. He just wants me to take it as a prophylactic measure. It's not even a very strong one."

"And rest. I'm assuming he also told you to rest." Sam didn't answer the question, he just looked straight ahead. "Sa-am," Al prompted. "He told you to rest, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did." Sam admitted.

Al blew out a breath and got up from where he'd sat on the side of the bed. "Well, we can't go back and undo yesterday and I can't force you stay in bed all day but I think it might be a good idea for you to do what Dr. Elliot said. We don't have to pick up your mom yet for a few hours so just rest until then. Read a book or something."

"I guess I can do that," Sam agreed before throwing the covers back and getting out of bed.

Al stepped back to give Sam room to get up. "I thought you said you could use some more sleep."

"I probably could," Sam answered wearily, "but I need to take that antibiotic and I can't do that on an empty stomach."

"Oh. You want me to make you something?"

"No. I can do it myself," Sam answered splitting his attention between Al and removing the immobilizer. "You just go on and do whatever you were going to do," Sam continued as he struggled to pull the Velcro loose. Whether Al had put it on so that the closure was more towards his back or it had moved while he slept, Sam couldn't seem to reach it to pull it free.

"Here, I'll get that for you," Al offered when he saw the difficulty Sam was having.

"I can do it myself," Sam said forcefully.

"I know you can do it yourself but your arm isn't going to reach around that far. You look like a dog trying to chase your tail."

"Do it," Sam said with a sigh as he dropped his arm back to his lap. "I don't know why you put it that far back anyway."

"I didn't," Al answered as he peeled the Velcro open. It probably moved while you were sleeping. You're not exactly still sometimes." He pulled the immobilizer completely off of Sam and handed it to him. "There, you're all set now."

Sam nodded his thanks and put the immobilizer down on top of the dresser.

"You're sure you don't want me to get you something to eat?" Al again offered.

"I'm sure, Al. I'm a big boy. I can get it myself." Sam turned in the direction of the bedroom door. "If you're still going out to the store could you see if they have any Christmas wreaths or something for the front door? We didn't get one and it must look bare."

Al stood back and watched Sam leave the room and found he couldn't let go of his worry for the younger man. He looked as tired as Al could remember seeing him since they'd come back from Colorado. His admission that Dr. Elliot had also noticed the weariness and had been concerned didn't help to ease the worry.

"Al?" Sam questioned turning around when he didn't get an answer to his question.

"Hmm? What?" Al shook himself from his thoughts turning.

"I asked if you could get a wreath for the door while you were out." Sam repeated.

"Oh, yeah. I can get you one of those." Al joined Sam in leaving the room. While the younger man continued on to the kitchen, Al stopped in the foyer to get his coat out of the closet. "You need anything else while I'm out," he asked when he walked by the kitchen.

"Yeah, milk," Sam said putting the nearly empty gallon down on the island next to a box of cereal. "We're just about out."

"That's what I said I was going out for," Al reminded.

"Oh, I guess I wasn't paying attention. In that case, that's it."

"Ok, then. I'll be back in a little while. Do me a favor."

Sam looked up from pouring the cereal into a bowl. "What?"

"When you're done eating just sit down and watch TV or read a book or something. Don't rush into your office and start working on the project. It'll be there later."

"Yeah, sure, Al. I can do that," Sam answered turning an innocent look in the older man's direction.

"I bet," Al grumbled before going out the door to the garage.

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An hour and a half after Al left; Sam heard his car pull into the garage. He considered quickly rolling up the architectural plans he'd spread on the kitchen table and grabbing a book and pretending that he'd sat there reading while Al was out but quickly discarded the idea. Al would see the plans and figure it out. Besides, it wasn't as if he was doing anything wrong.

"I knew I'd find you working on something," Al said when he came into the kitchen. He dropped the two bags he was carrying on the island before walking over to stand behind Sam looking down at the plans on the table.

Sam glanced up to Al out of the corner of his eye before looking down to the plans and making a notation. "These have to go out for bid to a contractor after the first of the year. I need to make sure this is all finalized so that can happen. I'm just doing the final tweaks."

"You've been 'tweaking' these for the last couple of weeks. How many more tweaks can you possibly make? It's fine already."

"Oh really?" Sam spun around in the chair to face Al. "You really don't think there's anything wrong with these plans as they are right now?" The smile on Sam's face and the open, guileless look should have tipped Al off that he'd found something wrong with the plans.

"No, there's nothing wrong. They're perfect the way they are." Al slid the plans away from Sam and started to roll them.

"Hope you can hold it for a good long time then."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Al asked as he stopped rolling the plans.

"It means, there's no restrooms on the control level so either you're gonna have to hold it or those plans need tweaking."

"You're kidding," Al said as he quickly unrolled the plans and started looking at them carefully. "How can there be no restrooms?"

"Someone made a mistake. Now do you still think these don't need anymore tweaking?"

"Ok," Al gave pushing the plans back over to Sam. "They're not perfect. I still think you can put them aside for right now give yourself a break." Al walked back over to the kitchen island and started to put away the food he'd bought. He hadn't purchased that much knowing that Thelma would most likely want to do grocery shopping of her own to cook Christmas dinner. He wasn't relishing the thought of going back to the grocery store since it had already been crazy when he was there.

"This isn't doing work," Sam argued. "I'm just looking them over and seeing where some improvements can be made." He turned back around in the chair to face Al. "I'm not sure what the difference would be if I sat and read a book and sitting and looking over the plans." He raised his eyebrows in a challenge for Al to tell him different.

"I guess there isn't much difference," Al conceded realizing that he didn't have a good argument. Once he'd finished putting the groceries away, he gathered up the dishes from Sam's breakfast that were still on the island. He frowned when he saw that the bowl was still half-full with cereal and milk. "You didn't eat much," he commented as he poured the remaining cereal down the garbage disposal.

"I ate enough." Sam turned back around to the plans laid out on the table. Al seemed like he was ready to launch into another round of mothering and he didn't feel like dealing with it.

Al didn't respond to Sam's assertion that he'd eaten enough for breakfast choosing to simply wash the dishes instead. "Did you take your antibiotic?" he asked once the dishes were dried and put away.

"Yes, I took my antibiotic," Sam grumbled never taking his eyes off the paper in front of him.

Al wandered back over and watched as Sam wrote several more notes down in the margin. "Have you ice your shoulder down today?"

"Yes," Sam answered slamming the pencil in his hand down. "I took my antibiotic, I iced my shoulder, I washed behind my ears, and I brushed my teeth. Is there anything else I'm missing, Mo-om?"

"Hey, don't get snippy with me. I'm just checking because you haven't been doing it as much as you're supposed to. Just pretend I didn't say anything." Al started to walk out of the kitchen.

Sam let out a noisy breath and pushed up from the table following Al. "Look, I'm sorry. You're just starting to drive me crazy checking on me every time I turn around. I'm not gonna fall apart and break, Al. Really."

Al abruptly stopped and turned around causing Sam almost to run into him. "I know you're not going to fall apart but give me a break, ok. It wasn't that long ago I watched you almost die. Hell, you were dead for a minute or two. It's not easy to forget and it scared the hell outta me. I don't want to ever see you like that again so if I'm nagging at you, that's why."

"I'm sorry," Sam said again but softer and with more meaning. "I guess I've never thought about what that was like for you. I don't really even remember much about what happened after I fell on that ice. It's all pretty hazy after that. I guess it's not so hazy for you."

Al shook his head vehemently. "No, Kid, it's not. I remember it all crystal clear. Everything from you begging me not leave you to you flat lining in the helicopter to the seizure you had at the hospital. Every single time I thought that that was it." Sam started to say something but Al quickly cut him off. "You know what was even worse? Watching your mother go through it all, trying to be strong, and making sure no one saw her crying. I don't want there to be a reason for her to see you like that again. Trust me, I'm not trying to piss you off or drive your crazy."

Sam looked down to the floor understanding a little better why Al had kept up the mothering and, in a small way, he was grateful for it. It was clear that the older man not only wanted to protect Sam but that he also wanted to protect Thelma as well. "Thanks for worrying about Mom," he quietly said. He raised his head and looked Al in the face. "I guess I never did thank you for staying with her and being there for her when I was in the hospital."

Al waved off Sam's thanks. "I wanted to do it, Sam." He rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath before looking at Sam again. "How 'bout if we just start over, pretend I didn't just ask you all that stuff and move on."

"Ok, that sounds good."

Al started to walk to the garage again when Sam called him back. "What's up?"

"I know you enjoy pissing me off," Sam said with as big a smile as he could muster.

For just a moment Al stood, struck dumb by what Sam had said before it hit him and he started laughing. Sam joined in on the laughter. "I guess you finally figured me out, Sam. I've stuck around you this long because I love pissin' you off."

Eventually their laughter died down and Al again started out for the garage only to be stopped again when Sam asked what he was going out there for.

"To get the rest of the stuff I bought," Al answered as he finally reached the door leading to the garage.

Sam's brow furrowed with confusion at Al's answer. "What else did you buy? I thought you were just getting milk and a few things. You know Mom's going to want to do her own grocery shopping."

"I know that," Al answered as he unlocked the trunk of the car. He pulled out the wreath that was laid there and handed it over to Sam. "I think I'm going to have put a nail on your front door to hang that." He opened up the backseat and pulled out the largest potted poinsettia that Sam could remember ever seeing.

"What's that for?" Sam asked eyeing the blood red plant.

Al gave Sam a little shove in the direction of the house. "It's to put on the file cabinet behind the couch. Women love these. If you have one in the house already it means your mother won't go store to store looking for the perfect one." Seeing Sam's skeptical look, Al hastened to reassure him. "Trust me, she'll love it."

"If you say so," Sam agreed though he didn't seem to be completely convinced. To his eye, the plant was too big but Al seemed sure. When Al put the plant in place Sam had to admit that it did seem to fill in the space.

"I'm just gonna stick this on your door," Al said as he took the wreath from Sam, "and you'll be all set unless you have a sudden urge to string lights up on the roof."

"Uh, no, I don't think we need to go to that extreme. But…uh…I could use some help with something else." Sam followed Al through the foyer where he leaned the wreath up against the wall and backtracked to the garage. He came back a minute later with a hammer and nail.

"What do you need?" Al asked as he drove the nail in place and hung the wreath on it.

"I was trying to wrap Mom's gifts and I can't do a very good job of it right now. Do you think you could give me a hand with them before we leave to pick up Mom?"

Al gave the red bow on the wreath a last twitch smoothing it out and swung the door shut. "Let me put this back and I'll give you hand."

"Great," Sam said with a smile. "I've got them in my room. I'll meet you in there."

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"What the hell happened in here?" Al exclaimed as he walked into Sam's bedroom. "I thought we cleaned up in here?"

Al stood in the middle of the room surveying what could only be termed the wake of Hurricane Beckett. The bed still had the sheets and blankets balled up in the middle where Sam had pushed them when he'd gotten out of bed. Added to that was a damp towel in the middle. The area of the room where Sam had set up a seating area was covered in pieces of Christmas wrap and an assortment of oddly wrapped gifts. In the middle of it sat Sam trying to wrap a box as neatly as he could.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked looking up from his work. "It is clean. It just needs to be straightened out a bit before Mom gets here."

Al walked and stood over Sam surveying his poor attempts at wrapping. "A bit? It looks more like we need FEMA in here. I've seen less damage after a hurricane. Ok, time for some damage control. I'll give you an A for effort trying to wrap those yourself but they need some serious help. You rip off the paper you put on them while I make your bed and then I'll re-wrap them for you."

Sam stopped wrapping the box he held and looked at it and the others. "They are pretty bad, aren't they?" he asked with a chuckle before he started to strip the paper away.

Al grabbed the damp towel off the bed and carried it to the bathroom. "They make towel racks for a reason," he called over his shoulder but he knew he might as well have been talking to a brick wall. If there was one thing Sam suffered a mental block from, it was the correct place to put a used towel.

While Sam finished unwrapping the gifts, Al made up his bed. Falling back on Navy training, a quarter could have been bounced off it when he was done.

"You have any preference for which paper these are wrapped in?" Al asked. Once the bed was made he sat on the floor next to Sam to wrap the gifts.

Sam looked at the various rolls of paper around him weighing his choices before answering. "No, I think anyone of them will be fine."

Al reached for a roll of creamy colored paper highlighted by golden angels and crimson poinsettias. "Why don't you start picking up all this trash while I wrap these up for you?"

Within 20 minutes, all of the Thelma's gifts were wrapped save one – the box that came from the jewelers. Sam opened the box and fingered the contents of it. "Do you think she'll like it?" he asked suddenly unsure. When he picked out the object a week ago, it had seemed perfect. Now that Christmas was almost here, Sam was questioning whether he'd made the right choice.

Al took the box from Sam and looked at the object inside of it. "It's perfect, Sam," he reassured. "She's going to love it."

"Are you sure?" Sam questioned still unsure that he'd made the right decision.

At first, Al thought to lighten the moment with a joke but drew back on that when he saw how uncertain Sam really was. "I'm positive," he stated before putting the cover back on the box, wrapping it and handing it to Sam. "You need anything else wrapped up?"

"Just your stuff but I'll ask Mom to help me with that."

Al gathered up all of the wrapped packages and put them in a shopping bag that was on the floor nearby. "Here, take these out to put under the tree and I'll get that box your Mom sent and we can put that stuff there as well."

Sam took the bag but didn't leave the room. Instead, he waited just outside the walk-in closet until Al had secured the box.

"What? Don't you trust me?" Al said when he turned around and saw Sam waiting for him.

"No," Sam simply answered. "I don't."

"Geez, Kid. That hurts. That really, really hurts."

"It's not gonna work, Al. You're not going to make me feel guilty. I know if I didn't watch you you'd go through everything in there to find out what I got you. You're worse than a little kid."

"Like you're any better," Al accused slipping by Sam with the box.

"I haven't gone snooping once."

"Sure, that's only because I've got your stuff back at my apartment. Makes it a little hard to go snooping. Now if it were all here…."

"Ok, ok," Sam said with a laugh. "You win. I'm just as bad as you."

While Al put the gifts under the tree, Sam took the three stockings that Thelma had sent and hung them on the hooks they'd bought for the fireplace. "We never hung them by the fireplace when I was a kid," he commented as he hung up the last one. "We'd always have our stockings tied to our bedpost. I think it was so it would keep us amused for a little while and give Mom and Dad and extra half hour to sleep."

"Why do I see you leading the charge to the tree on Christmas morning?" Al asked from his place under the tree.

Sam neither confirmed nor denied Al's statement, he just laughed softly.


	9. December 22, 1987 pt 2

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Sam ended up surprising Al for the rest of the morning. After the gifts and stockings were in place, he sat down on the couch with a book and spent the rest of the morning reading. He also sat down to read after lunch had been eaten and cleaned up.

Al took advantage of the time they had until they had to leave for the airport to work on some of the budgeting they'd need for the project. While Sam sat in the living room reading, Al used the computer in the office to get a good chunk of the work done. Thelma's flight wasn't due in until a little after 5:00 so that meant they didn't have to leave until about 3:00.

At about 2:30 Al realized that he hadn't heard any noise from Sam in a while and went out to the living room to see what he was doing. He wasn't surprised to find Sam curled up in the armchair, book on his chest fast asleep. On the one hand, he would have liked nothing better than to let him continue sleeping. On the other, he knew if he didn't wake Sam in time to pick up Thelma, he'd never hear the end of it. Besides that, if the kid stayed in the position he was in for much longer he'd end up one doozy of a crick in his neck – if he didn't have one already.

Al took a moment to look at Sam's sleeping face before waking him. In slumber, he seemed more youthful than his 34 years. Events in life had conspired to age Sam faster than they should have forcing him to live and act as an adult when he should have still been enjoying the carefree days of youth. Some people might have become bitter at the hand life dealt them but Sam had accepted it and, instead, used it as the catalyst that spurred him on to help others where he could.

He didn't talk about it much but Al had the feeling that Sam's youth wasn't all sunshine and happiness. His high intelligence would have set him apart from his peers and, at times, was probably more of a handicap to life than a boon. Sam had alluded to that in some regard when they were on the mountain. Al had the distinct impression that Sam's childhood was probably a lot lonelier than anyone would have thought. The saving grace for him was that he had such a loving family that sought to not only nurture the gift he'd been given but help it flourish by providing him with as normal and stable a life as they could.

As Al was watching, Sam's countenance changed from one of peaceful repose to one of anxiety. His brows knitted together and he arched his neck back as a soft groan came from him. Al guessed that he was probably having a bad dream – most likely about the plane crash. Sam had had more than a few of them in the months since they'd gotten back from Colorado. If he was forced to admit it, Al had had a few of his own.

He gently shook Sam awake hoping to spare him from the worst of the dream. "C'mon, Kid, time to wake up," he softly said.

Sam moaned again, pulling away from Al's hand. Al again attempted to gently shake Sam awake and garnered a reaction this time.

"No, stop," Sam cried out just before his eyes snapped open. He pulled back sharply in the chair when he saw how closely Al was leaning over him before visibly relaxing. "I was dreaming," he needlessly informed Al.

"I could see that. Must have been a real doozy." Al kept his voice pitched low and soft in an effort to soothe Sam who, although he was now awake, still seemed a skittish. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," Sam said as he passed his hand over his face almost in an attempt to wipe away any residual of the dream. "I was on the plane again and it was going down except this time you weren't there to get it down safely and I couldn't stop it. I woke up just before it crashed."

"Has that been happening a lot?" Al asked.

"Sometimes every night," Sam admitted. "Then sometimes there're days where I don't dream about it. This was the first time in about a week."

The plane crash had done Sam no favors leaving him fearful of boarding any plane – small craft or commercial. The two trips to Washington had been especially hard and he'd had to get a prescription for a tranquilizer to get through it. When Al had first suggested he ask Dr. Elliot for the prescription he'd meant it as a joke. He'd been surprised when Sam had taken what he'd said seriously and done just that. He'd been further surprised when he'd taken it on both trips to DC. Even with the use of it, he'd still been a bundle of nerves.

"Maybe you should talk to someone about it," Al suggested.

"I am, Al. I just told you."

"I mean someone who can help you."

"I don't need someone to tell me it's just a dream. I'll get over it or learn to live with it. Either way, it'll be fine."

Al had had more than his fair share of experiences with both psychologists and psychiatrists when he'd come back from Vietnam and could understand some of Sam's reluctance in not wanting to seek out the help of one. He chose to change the subject to get Sam's mind away from the dream. "We need to head out in a little while if we're going to make it to the airport on time." He looked at Sam with a critical eye noting the paleness of his complexion and the shadows that were now visible beneath his eyes. "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to stay here and get a little more rest. I can drive to the airport and pick up your mother by myself."

For just a moment, Sam looked like he wanted to agree with Al's suggestion. His answer, though, was the complete opposite. "No. If I'm not there to meet her, she's going to think something's wrong with me. Besides, I want to be there when she gets off the plane."

_You need to see that she got here safely with your own eyes,_ Al added silently to himself.

Sam straightened up in the chair from his slouch and groaned slightly. As Al suspected, the position he'd been sleeping in had left him stiff and with a crick in his neck. "You think we should just leave now?" he asked as he rubbed the side of his neck. "There's probably going to be a lot of traffic and I bet the airport's going to be a nuthouse."

"Yeah, we probably should," Al agreed. "It won't hurt if we get there a little early. I guess that's better than getting there late and having your mother waiting for us."

Before leaving the house for the airport, they again had a discussion over what Sam was wearing. He'd grabbed the same sweatshirt to put on under his coat that he had the night they went out to dinner. Al tried to argue him out of it telling him that Thelma wouldn't approve but he didn't manage to make his case. It seemed that feeling cold was yet another leftover Sam had from their time in Colorado.

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Al was on his third loop of the parking lot looking for a space. Beside him, Sam had rocketed past antsy and was ready to move a car out of their way physically. Traffic had been heavier coming into the airport than either had thought it would be. Now with the difficulty finding a parking space they'd be hard-pressed to make it to the gate on time to meet Thelma's flight.

"There, right there," Sam anxiously said pointing at space recently vacated.

Al put on his directional to signal that he was going to pull into the spot but that didn't stop another driver from trying to cut him off. Both drivers put on the brakes just before there would have been a collision.

"Idiot! What are you blind? Did you miss the directional?" Sam yelled out though there was no way the other driver could hear him.

Al was surprised at Sam's outburst. Generally, he was the one who would start screaming at other drivers while Sam took it all in stride. "You might wanna simmer down a little there, Kid," he suggested. "You're getting a little red in the face."

Sam took a deep breath and held it with his eyes closed before blowing it out noisily. "We're going to be late and I don't want Mom to have to wait. You had your directional on and now look, he's not moving. He's just sitting there." Sam stripped off his seatbelt yelling once again at the other driver. "What the hell are you doing?" At the last second, Al grabbed him by his coat just before he popped the door to climb out.

The driver of the other car must have gotten the message when Sam tried to climb out because he quickly backed out of their way and Al was able to pull into the spot.

Once Al had switched off the engine and pulled the keys out of the ignition, he turned in the seat to face Sam who was again trying to get out of the car. Al once more prevented him from doing so by grabbing at his coat.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked with little patience trying to free himself from Al's grip. "C'mon, we're going to be late."

"If we're a minute or two late the world's not going to end. You need to sit there for a second and calm down. You go charging through the airport to your mother like this and she is going to think something's wrong." Al attempted to remain calm and rational in the face of Sam's impatience and frustration. "Just sit there for a second and take a deep breath and settle down."

Sam did as he was told but the tenseness in his body didn't drain away as Al hoped. Realizing that Sam was about as calm as he was going to get, Al released the hold he had on him allowing him to exit the vehicle. He practically had to run to keep up with younger man as he took off across the parking lot and through the airport.

Sam didn't pause or stop until he'd reached the gate Thelma's flight would be disembarking at. The plane was just arriving when they got there. When Sam saw it, he seemed visibly to relax to a certain degree.

"She'll be here in a few minutes," Al murmured to him and patted him on the back. "Try to relax."

Sam nodded his head taking another deep breath and letting it go and Al felt some of the tenseness drain from his body. When the passengers started streaming out of the jet way, the tenseness returned once more as Sam craned his head trying to see his mother in the crowd. Finally, he saw her emerge from the jet way and rushed over to greet her.

When Thelma caught sight of her son coming in her direction, her face broke into a beaming smile. When he wrapped her in a one-armed bear hug, she returned the greeting just as enthusiastically. Al hung back allowing them some small measure of privacy in the crowded airport. He couldn't hear what words they exchanged but watched as Thelma tenderly cupped her son's cheek and then caressed his injured shoulder gently before pulling him into another loving hug.

When Thelma released him, Sam looked around and, spotting where Al was still standing, gestured for him to come over. As soon as he was in reach, Thelma greeted him with a hug and a kiss. "It's so good to see you again, Al," she said when she stepped back.

"You too, Mrs. Beckett. I hope you had a good flight."

"It was long – too long, but at least now I'm here." Thelma put an arm around Sam's waist pulling him to her. He leaned into her welcoming the closeness of his mother.

The three started to walk in the direction of the luggage pickup area chatting along and catching up. Thelma had expressed concern over Sam's worn-out look but he'd assured her it was nothing that a good night's sleep wouldn't cure.

"You know, while you and Mom go to get her luggage, I could go get the car and meet you both at the door. It'll be faster that way," Sam suggested.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Al objected. "Remember, you're the one who said you couldn't drive with your arm like that. We'll get your Mom's luggage and I'll get the car and meet the two of you at the door."

"I can't drive my car because it's a standard. Yours is an automatic so I can handle that. It's not like I'm going to go drive on the freeway – just from the parking space to here." Sam was trying his best to be persuasive but Al didn't seem to be in the mood to be persuaded.

"No," Al said shaking his head. "We'll do it my way. That parking lot's a zoo and you only have the use of one arm to steer. Besides, I saw what you were like just sitting in the passenger seat. I let you out there by yourself you might commit homicide."

"What's the matter, Al," Sam challenged, "you afraid I'm going to scratch your car or something."

"Yeah, maybe I am. Look, we'll just do it my way and it'll go a lot smoother."

Neither of the two realized that they'd stopped in the middle of a walkway to have their discussion and that other people now had to dodge around them. Both of them were so intent on getting his own way that they'd blocked out the fact that they were in a crowded airport concourse. Finally, Thelma stepped in to bring some semblance to the proceedings.

"We'll all go down to get the luggage and we'll all go to the car together," she stated firmly.

"No way, Mom," Sam said adamantly shaking his head at Thelma "We're all the way across the parking lot from here. You don't need to walk that far. I can go get the car and meet you here."

"Are you disagreeing with me, young man?" Thelma asked with an arched eyebrow. To an outsider it may have sounded like she was joking with Sam but Al could hear the steel underneath her voice. Evidently, Sam could as well.

"No, Ma'am. I just don't want you to have to walk that far."

"That wouldn't be because you think your mother's too old, now would it?" This time there was more humor and less steel in Thelma's voice. She'd already caught Sam, though, and he was backpedaling to get himself out of trouble.

"No, Mom. I don't think you're too old. I just didn't think you should have to walk all that way, that's all."

"Good, then it's settled," Thelma said sweetly while patting Sam on the cheek. "We're all going to stick together."

She turned away from the two and proceeded on toward the luggage pickup. Sam stood motionless with his mouth hanging open as he realized his mother had won without having to put up very much of a fight.

"Now I can see why you didn't get anything past her," Al commented before brushing by Sam and following in Thelma's wake.

Sam stood still for another few seconds before rushing to catch up with Thelma and Al.

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"Mom, I can…do it myself," Sam said - his voice trailing off. They'd decided to stop along the way to get an early dinner. Sam had been quite careful about ordering something that he'd be able to eat on his own without any assistance. There hadn't been very many choices on the menu that fit the bill, though, and he'd decided to go with a boneless, stuffed chicken breast with the thought that he'd be able to use his fork to cut through it. What he hadn't bargained on was Thelma pulling his plate close to her so that she could cut his food for him as soon as the waiter had put it down.

"I could have done it," he groused when she'd finished and put the plate back in front of him.

"I'm sure you could have done something with it eventually but by then it would have been too cold. Now hush and eat."

Al did his best to hide the smile that he felt tickling the corners of his mouth as he watched his grown friend treated like a child. He felt Sam's eyes on him and quickly engaged Thelma in conversation before the younger man could have a chance to say anything to him about the smile.

While Thelma and Al conversed, Sam silently picked at his food pushing it around his plate more than putting it in his mouth. It wasn't unnoticed by either of his dining companions. When he put down his fork and said he'd eaten enough, Thelma voiced her opinion to the contrary before Al could.

"You've hardly eaten anything, Sweetheart. You need to eat more than that."

"I'm not hungry," Sam reiterated as he reached into his pocket for the bottle of antibiotics.

"What's that?" Thelma asked when she saw the prescription label on the bottle. "Is your shoulder bothering you?"

Sam put the pill in his mouth and swallowed it before answering his mother. "My shoulder's fine. This is an antibiotic. Dr. Elliot wants me to take it for a few days as a precaution."

"A precaution against what?" Thelma asked alarmed.

"It's nothing, Mom," Sam said wearily. "My white cell count was a little on the high side when I saw him yesterday so he wants me to take it to prevent any kind of infection."

"You should be home resting then," she said with concern coving Sam's hand with hers.

"Another one," Sam said sote voce. "I don't need to be home resting," Sam answered in a louder voice. "It's a preventative measure, that's all. I'm not sick and I don't need to be resting and I wish everyone would stop telling me that."

Thelma's eyes grew round as Sam's voice rose in volume. As soon as he saw it, he immediately felt bad. He'd been so looking forward to his mother's visit and now it seemed like everything was getting off on the wrong foot.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to get short with you. I guess I am a little tired." Sam put his napkin down next to his plate and rose. "Would you both excuse me? I'll be…uh…I'll be right back." He didn't give either Al or Thelma a chance to answer before rushing away from the table.

Thelma watched him leave in concern. "What's wrong with him?" she asked once she was sure Sam was out of earshot.

"It's like he said, he's tired." Seeing the skeptical look on Thelma's face, Al hastened to explain further. "He hasn't given himself a chance to really rest since the surgery and I think it's all just hitting him at once. Once he gets home and gets a good night's sleep I bet he'll be right as rain." Al hoped he sounded more convincing than he thought since he wasn't totally convinced that was all that was wrong.

"What about that antibiotic? Is he really only taking it as a precaution?"

"That's all. It's just to make sure he doesn't come down with anything."

Thelma sat back eyeing the direction Sam had rushed off in. "I don't completely believe you, Al, and I don't think you believe yourself either but I'm willing to give him a chance."

"That's all we can do." Al pushed his chair back from the table. "I'm going to go make sure he's all right. I'll be right back." He didn't wait for confirmation from Thelma before following in the direction Sam had taken.

He found Sam leaning over one of the sinks in the men's room splashing water on his face. "You doing ok?" he asked resting a hand on Sam's back.

Sam straightened up so that he could see his reflection and Al's in the mirror above the sink. "What's wrong with me?" he asked the reflection of Al.

"What's wrong, Kid, is that you've let yourself get too tensed up. That's what's wrong. You're so strung out right now you can't enjoy anything. You've spent so much time worrying about getting everything just perfect for your mother and now that she's here you can't let yourself just relax and enjoy it."

Sam turned around to face Al leaning back on the sink behind him. "You really think that's all?"

Al shrugged holding his hands out in a gesture of not knowing. "Unless there's something you haven't told me that's wrong, yeah." He bent down slightly trying to catch Sam's gaze since he'd angled his face down. "Just forget about everything for the next couple of days and just enjoy. You've earned it."

"You're right," Sam agreed pushing away from the sink he was leaning against. "I just need to let it all go now. Why don't you go back out with Mom and I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Why don't you come with me now," Al urged.

Sam smiled sheepishly and pointed to the row of urinals across from where they were standing. "I sorta came in here for a reason and I don't think I need an audience for that."

"Oh, yeah, sure. I'll meet you outside," Al quickly agreed.

Thelma was sitting anxiously at the table looking in the direction they'd gone in when Al arrived back at the table. "He'll be out in a few minutes."

"Is he ok?" Sam's mother asked with concern.

"He's fine," Al reassured her patting her hand as he sat back down. "Like I said, he's just tired and little stressed right now. He's been going like a house afire trying to get everything ready for you."

"Well like it or not I'm going to make sure he does nothing but rest for the next couple of days." Thelma said it with such finality Al had no doubt she'd force the younger man to do just that and if he were smart, he wouldn't complain.

Sam rejoined them a few minutes later and if he didn't look completely at ease, at least he didn't look quite as strung out as he had when he'd left the table.

"Sorry about that, Mom," he said with a smile. "I guess I just needed to blow off a little steam."

"It's ok, Sweetheart. I understand completely. Just do me one favor?"

"What?" Sam asked eager to please his mother.

"Eat just a little bit more."

"Sure thing, Mom." Sam picked up his fork and starting eating his dinner again with relish. He surprised everyone at the table when he ended up finishing all that was on his plate and then suggesting that they get dessert. "I guess I was hungrier than I thought," he said with a sheepish smile.

"Like I keep telling you, you're always starving," Al said bringing laughter to the table.

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"Your suitcases are in the bedroom," Al said coming into the living room where Thelma and Sam were sitting side by side on one of the couches talking quietly. "I'm gonna head back to my apartment now but if you need anything, give me a call."

Sam spun around to face Al. "What do you mean; you're going back to your apartment. I thought you were going to stay with us for Christmas."

"I am but in case you haven't looked at a calendar lately, today's only the 22nd. It's not Christmas."

"I know that. I just thought…."

"Sam, I'll be back Thursday morning but right now it's time for you and your Mom to spend some time together – without me. When's the last time you did that without being in a hospital bed? Besides, I've got a few errands I need to run down in Santa Fe tomorrow."

"Are you sure, Al? You know you're welcome to stay here."

"I'm sure," Al replied. Sam's insistence on wanting to include him in this time with his mother warmed Al's heart but he knew that it was important for Sam to spend some time with his mother by himself. "Sam said something about you wanting to do some grocery shopping tomorrow, Mrs. Beckett. I can swing by here after I get back from Santa Fe and take you."

"Nonsense," Thelma said as she also turned to face Al. "You've done plenty already. I can drive Sam's car and he can give me directions." She reached around to pat Al's hand where it rested on the back of the couch. "We'll be just fine by ourselves. You go on and do whatever it is you have to do tomorrow and we'll see you on Christmas Eve."

"I'm looking forward to it, Ma'am. I don't want you to worry about getting anything for dinner on Christmas Eve."

"You planning on ordering out or are you scared of my Mom's cooking?" Sam was feeling much more relaxed and mellow since getting home and it showed in the easy banter.

"No, I'm not going to order out and I'm not scared of your Mom's cooking." Al switched his attention to Thelma gracing her with a wide smile. "I'm looking forward to your cooking after all Sam's raved about it. I plan on cooking the two of you dinner for Christmas Eve, though. A nice traditional Italian meal – linguine and clam sauce."

At the mention of his planned dinner, Thelma graced Al with a smile. "Well, that sounds lovely, Al and I'm looking forward to it."

"Yeah, Al, that does sound good. I'll even help you cook it." Sam made the offer with innocent eyes but a wide grin.

"No thank you. I don't think we want a hurricane going through the kitchen on Christmas Eve."

Sam chuckled softly at Al's jest.

"If the two of you are all set now, I'll head out."

Sam started to get up to walk Al out but the older man pushed him back down. "You stay put. I can let myself out. I do it often enough."

"He's a good friend," Thelma said once Al had left. "You're lucky."

"Yeah, he is," Sam agreed quickly. "I know it means a lot to him spending Christmas with us." A sudden thought crossed Sam's mind. "You don't mind, do you? I mean, I never did ask if you minded if Al joined us."

"Sammy, hush," Thelma said putting her hand over Sam's mouth to stop him. "I'm very happy that Al's going to be here for Christmas. He's a part of the family now and this is where he should be. He's a good man. It just took me a while to see that."

"He is," was Sam's simple but sincere agreement. Before he could say anything else, a yawn nearly split his face in two. "Sorry," he apologized blushing slightly.

Thelma looked around the room before getting up to stand by the tree. "The house looks lovely and this tree is beautiful."

Sam joined his mother near the tree. "Al had a lot to do with it. If he hadn't helped me out the last few days you might have had to stay at a hotel." Sam shuddered at the thought of the mix of his mother and the state his house was in just a few days ago.

"I highly doubt it couldn't have been that bad. You might not always be the tidiest person but I know you're also not a complete slob."

"Oh, you'd have been surprised, Mom."

"I see you put the lights on the tree in a spiral pattern," Thelma commented after looking at the tree with a critical eye.

Sam let out a huff of laughter. "I suggested to Al that he should go up and down instead of round and round with the lights and he suggested that I could be the angel on top of the tree this year. I thought it might be a good idea to let him have his way."

"I always knew you were a smart boy," Thelma replied dryly. She wandered over to the piano, sat down, opened up the cover over the keyboard, and played a few bars smiling fondly. "You keep it in tune," she remarked looking over her shoulder at Sam.

"Yeah. I try to play it whenever I can." He gestured to the sling his left arm was supported in as frustration crept into his voice. "I haven't been able to play much since the surgery."

Thelma patted the piano bench next to her. "Come over here with me. It's been so long since we've played together."

Sam obliged his mother sitting down next to her. As she started to play "Silent Night", he joined her. When she joined her voice to the music of the piano, he stopped playing. He was content to simply watch and listen as his mother filled the room with music. As she sang, he realized that the tension he'd still felt in his body seemed to melt away. It was Christmas and his mother was here with him – he was home. "Voice of an angel," he whispered when she was done.

"Your father used to say the same thing," Thelma wistfully responded. "That was his favorite Christmas carol." She carefully closed the cover over the keyboard and ran her hand along the smooth wood. "I've missed playing this. Did you know your father gave me this piano for Christmas the year you were born? I could never figure out how he was able to afford it and he'd never tell me. You fell in love with it the minute you heard it. It never failed. Whenever you were crying and fussing I'd put you down near the piano and play and you'd stop crying almost immediately."

"I always love to hear you play, Mom. I probably wouldn't have loved it so much if it weren't for you," Sam told her sincerely. His serious tone was broken when another yawn threatened to crack his jaw.

"You need to go to bed and get some sleep," Thelma told him getting up from the piano bench. "I don't want any sass from you either. Al told me you haven't gotten much rest since the surgery and I'm going to see to it that you get it now."

"It's still early, Mom and you just got here."

"And I'm going to be here for two weeks. We'll have plenty of time together. Now, up you go." Thelma tugged on Sam's arm until he finally stood up. When he did, he wrapped her in another hug.

"I'm so glad you're here, Mom," he whispered.

"I am too, Sweetheart." Thelma pulled him down kissing him softly on the cheek. "Now off to bed with you," she said as she swatted him on the butt.

"Ok, ok," Sam laughed. "You don't have to get violent, I'm going. Goodnight," he said giving her another peck on the cheek.

"Sleep tight," Thelma replied.

Sam got as far as his bedroom door before he realized he'd need his mother's help before he could go to bed. "Uh, Mom, I'm…uh…gonna need some help getting ready."

Thelma joined him at the door to the bedroom. "What's wrong, Sam? What do you need?" she asked him with some measure of concern.

"It's nothing bad, Mom. I just need you to secure the immobilizer for me. That's all. That way I won't move my arm while I'm sleeping." He stepped fully into the bedroom, switched the light on, and remembered then that Al had made the bed for him completely that afternoon. "I guess I'm gonna need you to pull the bedspread down, too."

Thelma brushed past Sam and in a businesslike manner grabbed his pajamas where they were in a neatly folded pile at the foot of his bed and handed them to him. "You go get changed and I'll get your bed ready for you."

By the time Sam came out of the bathroom, Thelma had pulled down the bedspread and folded the sheet and blanket back. Sam finished adjusting the sling before grabbing the immobilizer from where he'd left it on the top of the bureau. He handed it to Thelma, sat down on the edge of bed, and explained to her how to put it on him. "You can pull it a little tighter than that," he said when she first fastened it in place.

"Are you sure," Thelma asked with some reluctance. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." Sam assured. "It's got to be tight enough to prevent my shoulder from moving.

Once Thelma had pulled the immobilizer tight enough, Sam again tried to convince her that he didn't have to go to bed. "I can lay down on the couch and keep you company for a while," he tried to convince her.

"No," Thelma answered him firmly. "You're going to get in this bed and get a good night's sleep. Besides, I'm pretty tired from all that traveling today and I'm going to turn in myself as well."

"Ok," Sam reluctantly agreed and lay back in the bed. While he made himself comfortable, Thelma switched on the small bedside lamp and then went over to turn off the overhead light before coming back over to the bed. She smoothed out the covers over Sam, tucking them securely around his shoulders. She sat on the edge of the bed and started to card her fingers through his hair.

"What are you doing, Mom?" Sam asked in a low voice.

"I'm sitting with you until you fall asleep," Thelma answered.

"You don't have to do that," Sam mumbled around a yawn.

"I know. I want to, though. Now hush and close your eyes."

Sam did his mother's bidding, sinking deeper into the pillows. Soon his breathing evened out to a sleeping cadence. Thelma continued to sit by him for another few moments still running her fingers through his hair. She gazed down on him fondly seeing in his place the child he used to be. Eventually she realized that she couldn't sit and watch him sleep all night and rose from her place by the bed. Before turning off the light, she kissed him gently on the forehead and again made sure the blankets were tucked in securely around him. "Sleep tight, Sammy," she whispered before turning off the light, leaving the room and retiring to her bedroom for the night.


	10. December 23, 1987

**Wednesday, December 23, 1987**

Warm sunlight coming around the edge of the shade and falling on his face woke Sam from his slumber in the morning. He stretched out working the kinks from his body and looked over to his bedside clock. He was surprised to see it was already after 8:30. He wasn't eager to get out of bed despite the hour and was instead content to continue to lie in bed. This was the first night since he'd had the surgery that he'd slept the whole night through without having to get up to get any painkillers and for that he was grateful. A few minutes later, he heard a gentle knocking on his bedroom door.

"Come in," he called out pushing himself up to sit.

Thelma entered the room carrying a tray laden with plates and cups.

"What's all this?" Sam asked in surprise as the tray was laid over his lap.

"It's called breakfast in bed," Thelma explained as she pulled the pillows behind Sam so he could lean against them. "I made those griddle cakes you wanted."

"You didn't have to do this, Mom," Sam protested though he was obviously touched that his mother had gone through all the trouble for him.

"Nonsense," Thelma brightly answered. "How often do I get to spoil my son?"

While Sam started to eat his breakfast, Thelma began to bustle around the room pulling up the shades to let the sunlight in. Once that was done, she started to neatly fold the clothes that Sam had dropped in a pile near the bathroom door the night before. "Sweetheart, is this really the only one you have to wear?" she asked when she got to the zip-front sweatshirt he'd been wearing.

Sam had the good grace to be embarrassed when his mother held up the sweatshirt. "Uh, yeah, it is."

"Really, Sam, this looks like something you might have had when you were in college. I think you can afford to get yourself a new one, don't you?"

"Well, I don't usually wear it. I was only wearing it because I could get it on easily with my arm." At Thelma's arched brow, he quickly agreed with her. "Ok, ok, I'll get a new one."

"Good, and this one's going out right now."

"No," Sam hastily said almost choking on the bite of food he'd just swallowed. "At least let me get something else before you get rid of it."

Reluctantly Thelma hung the sweatshirt up in the closet. "Whether or not you've replaced that in the next week, it's going and I best not see you wearing it to church on Christmas Eve."

Sam paused with the mug of tea halfway to his mouth. "Church?" he questioned in confusion.

"Yes, church," Thelma repeated coming over to the bed and sitting down on the side. "I know you don't normally go and if that's your choice, that's fine. I would like you to go with me to services tomorrow night, though."

"This is really important to you?" Sam asked. Thelma didn't have to answer, the look on her face was answer enough. "Ok. I'll go with you tomorrow night," he sighed.

"Thank you, Sweetheart." Thelma leaned over and kissed Sam on the cheek. "Well, looks like you did a good job on breakfast."

Sam picked up the napkin from the tray and used it to wipe off his mouth. "It was great, Mom, but you don't have to bring me breakfast in bed. I can get up and get it. I can even make it, you know."

Thelma let out a chuckle at Sam's offer to cook. "Oh no," she said getting up from the bed and picking up the tray from over Sam's lap. "I know you can cook but I don't have it in me to clean up the mess that generally follows when you cook.

"What is it with you and Al? You both think I can't boil water without leaving the kitchen in a wreck."

"I don't know about Al," Thelma answered. "I know I've had the pleasure of finding my kitchen looking like an earthquake hit it after you got through cooking. I'm not anxious for a repeat." Thelma started to walk out of the room with the breakfast tray. "Why don't you take a shower and get dressed and then we can go out and get the grocery shopping done. When we come back I can start baking for Christmas dinner."

Sam got out of bed and pulled off the immobilizer putting it back on the top of the bureau where he'd find it that night. He started going through drawers pulling out clothes for the day. "It's just going to be three of us, Mom. You don't have to bake that much," he told Thelma just before going into the closet to find a shirt to put on.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to bake that much, just enough for us to have a nice dessert."

Sam poked his head back out the closet door. "I know what you think is enough, Mom, and it's usually enough for a family of twelve."

"Sam, you worry too much. You let me handle worrying about how much food I make and you worry about eating it. Deal?" Thelma didn't wait for Sam to answer before leaving the room.

"Great," Sam mumbled coming out of the closet with a shirt. "We're going to have enough food to feed a homeless shelter if she has her way."

Sam dropped the shirt on the bed in surprise when Thelma's voice reached his ears. "I can hear you mumbling in there, Samuel."

"Mama knows," he whispered as he gathered up his clothes and went into the bathroom.

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After taking a shower and getting dressed, Sam made his way to his mother's room. He stood in the doorway watching for a few seconds as she made the bed. In his good arm he carried a large box and a roll of wrapping paper. A pair of scissors and roll of tape were tucked into the sling. "Knock, knock," he lightly said realizing he didn't have a free hand to actually knock on the door jam.

"Oh, Sam. Come in," Thelma said turning around seeing him standing in the doorway.

Sam came into the room resting the box and roll of white wrapping paper with sprigs of holly on the foot of the neatly made bed. "Could I ask you a favor, Mom?"

"Of course you can, Sweetheart. What do you need?"

"Help," Sam simply said.

"Help?" Thelma asked. "It might be a little easier if you tell me what kind of help."

"I was trying to wrap Al's Christmas gift before we left but I can't seem to do a very good job of it one-handed. I was wondering if you could help me with it." Sam offered the scissors and roll of tape to Thelma.

"I've never known a man, two good arms or not, who could do a very good job of wrapping any kind of gift," Thelma commented taking the scissors and tape from Sam. "Of course I'll help you wrap it.

Sam sat on the bench at the foot of the bed and watched as his mother expertly cut a piece of paper off the roll that was a perfect fit for the box. The paper was wrapped around the box with neat, crisp corners and secured in place with a few pieces of the tape.

"There," Thelma said straightening up from the bed. "You just need to put a tag and a bow on it and it's all set. Do you have anything else you need wrapped?"

"No, this was the only one I couldn't really manage," Sam said standing up from the bench "Thanks."

Sam was about to put the scissors and tape back in the sling so he could carry the box and roll of paper when Thelma stopped him. "You just carry this," she said handing the box to him. "I'll get the rest of it."

Thelma followed Sam out of her room and down the hallway to his. She stopped in the living room to look at the tree once more. "You certainly did get a lovely tree."

"Al's the one who picked it out," Sam explained stopping to look at it as well. "I think we were having a failure to communicate."

"What do you mean by that?" Thelma asked following Sam as he once more headed to his bedroom.

"What I mean is I asked him if he could do me a big favor and pick up a small tree while I was at my appointment with Dr. Elliot. I think he heard me ask him to do me a small favor and get a big tree instead. Half the forest is in the living room."

"Well, it looks perfectly lovely. Anything smaller just wouldn't have looked right." Thelma put the rolling of wrapping paper down on the top of the bureau along with the scissors and tape and started smoothing the wrinkles out of Sam's unmade bed.

"I thought you were supposed to take my side," Sam said going to the sitting area to put the wrapped box with the rest of the gifts he had there. "You don't have to do that," he continued when he turned around and saw his mother making his bed. "I'll do it."

"I'm not taking any sides," Thelma pointed out as she continued making the bed. "I'm simply pointing out a fact, that's all. Straighten that corner over the there," she said pointing to the corner of the bed Sam was standing near. Obediently he did as he was told.

"You don't have to do this," he repeated.

"No, I don't but it's not very easy for you to do it right now. I'll bet you haven't bothered making your bed since you had the surgery done."

Sheepishly Sam looked down to the floor and shrugged. The only time it had been made neatly was when Al had done it for him yesterday before they'd left to pick Thelma up at the airport. "It's been tough," he confessed. When he looked up, he saw Thelma starting to pull the bedspread up. "Leave that down, Mom. It's too hard for me to get it down by myself right now and I don't want to have to keep getting you when I want to go to bed.

Thelma re-folded the bedspread neatly at the foot of the bed. "It's ok to ask for help," she reminded Sam.

"I know that and trust me, I will ask for help for the important things. It's just nuts for you to have to come back here and pull it down just so I can go to bed."

Thelma walked to where Sam was standing by the foot of the bed and patted his cheek. "You always were independent even when you were little. I think your favorite words between 18 months and 4 years were 'I can do it.' You'd have a bit of temper tantrum every time you couldn't do for yourself. I guess it's something you still haven't grown out of." Thelma gave the room a quick once over and saw that everything was neatly in place. "Well, I guess we should get a move on to the grocery store. The later it gets the busier it's going to be and I know how much you love a busy grocery store."

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"Sam? What's this?" Thelma asked picking up the carton he'd just deposited in the shopping cart and looking at it distastefully. They'd been in the grocery store for a half hour fighting their way through the other holiday shoppers and Sam was starting to reach the end of his patience. Thelma, on the other hand, didn't seem at all bothered by the crowds as she continued to take her time picking out the items she'd need to cook their Christmas dinner. Only the best was good enough for Thelma Beckett.

"It's egg nog, Mom," Sam sighed knowing full well that his mother knew exactly what the carton contained.

"Oh, no," Thelma said decisively and pushed the carton back at Sam. "You can put that right back where it came from. We're not going to have eggnog that comes out of a carton. I plan on making it myself."

Taking a quick look at the items in the shopping cart Sam came to the quick realization that if his mother was now intent on making egg nog from scratch, that would mean going back through the store to get the items that were missing. He didn't relish the thought of doing that. "You don't have to do all that work, Mom," he said putting the carton back in the shopping cart. "Really, this tastes…" he took one look at his mother's face and quickly revised what he was going to say. "Almost as good as yours but that's not good enough so I'll put it back."

"Get some whipping cream when you do," Thelma called at Sam's retreating back.

Finally, the shopping cart was loaded and the two headed for the registers. When they reached the checkout area Sam couldn't help but let out a low groan when he saw how long the lines were.

"Is something wrong, Sweetheart," Thelma asked with concern when she heard Sam. "Is your shoulder bothering you or do you feel ill?"

"Oh, I feel sick, Mom, but it has nothing to do with my shoulder. It's just all this." Sam helplessly gestured to everyone else already waiting in line to check out.

"We'll be done before you know it," Thelma assured him brightly.

Ten minutes later, they were still standing in the same spot as the lines seemed to move at a snail's pace. With the general cacophony of sounds near the registers, Sam and Thelma had both mutually concluded that talking with each other wasn't worth it as they had to keep asking the other to repeat what had been said. Eventually, out of sheer boredom and impatience, Sam picked up a tabloid on the rack near the register and started to page through it. With each turn of the page, Sam wondered more and more how people could read the tabloids so religiously. When it came to a story about a woman giving birth to an alien's baby, Sam started to laugh outright at how ridiculous it all was.

"What's so funny," Thelma asked when she heard Sam's laugher.

"Just how ridiculous this article is," Sam answered before closing up the paper and putting it back in its place in the rack. "I can't believe the things people will read and believe."

"It's amazing what will entertain people," Thelma agreed. She pointed to the paper below the one Sam had been flipping through that featured a front-page story about time travel. "Apparently whoever wrote that read a little too much H.G. Wells."

Sam scanned the front page of the paper his mother was pointing too catching site of story she was referring to. "Well, you never know, Mom, someday someone might figure out how to go back in time."

Thelma gave Sam a long searching look seeing the sincerity and forcefulness behind his words. "That's always been your dream. Well, I guess if someone's going to do it, it's going to be you."

Impulsively Sam pulled his mother into a quick hug. "Thanks, Mom, you always have believed in me."

Eventually they made it through to the front of the line and it was their turn to check out. When the cashier hit the final total button, Thelma started to open her pocketbook to pay for the groceries but Sam put his hand over hers to stop her. "You're doing all the work of cooking, Mom. I'm not going to let you pay for it."

Sam was surprised when Thelma offered no argument or resistance, closing her purse and letting him pay. The cashier had to repeat the total again to get Sam's attention before he pulled his checkbook out of his coat pocket to pay for the groceries.

When they got the bags out to Sam's car and in the backseat, Sam was shocked to see that they'd bought enough to fill the entire backseat. "I think we've got more than enough food here, Mom. You're not planning on cooking all of this at once."

"Nonsense," Thelma answered as she climbed in the driver's side of the car. "That should last us at least a week."

Sam gave the bags in the backseat another questioning look before getting in the car next to his mother. "A week? Mom, it looks like there's enough back there to last a month."

Thelma started up the car and carefully backed out of the space. "That's because you don't eat enough and when you do, you eat out too much. You're getting good, home-cooked meals while I'm here."

"I can't argue with that although I don't want you to be working and waiting on me for the next two weeks. This is supposed to be your vacation"

"You should know by now that I find cooking for my family to be very relaxing. Now, do I take a right or a left here?"

With Sam directing and Thelma driving they soon arrived back at Sam's house and started to empty the bags out of the car. By the time they were done, the kitchen table was covered in bags and a portion of the island as well. Despite Thelma's insistence that she could put the groceries away, Sam started to empty the bags putting the various items in the places he normally kept them. When they were done putting everything away, Sam realized he'd never seen his refrigerator so full.

Thelma suggested that they have an early lunch once the groceries were put away and Sam agreed. When he tried to help her prepare it, though, she sat him at the kitchen table with the icepack and orders not to move from his seat.

Sam gratefully took the icepack from her, putting it on his shoulder. He hadn't been as diligent the last few days about icing it as Dr. Stone had wanted him to be and he was starting to feel it. He was hopeful that the icepack would be enough and that he wouldn't have to take any of the painkillers. He'd been taking them on and off for nearly a week and was getting tired of how tired they made him feel.

Sam kept the icepack in the place until after they'd finished eating lunch. When he took it off, he found that his shoulder did feel better.

Once the remains of lunch was cleaned up, Thelma shooed Sam out of the kitchen. "I want to get some baking done and I don't want you underfoot while I'm doing it."

Sam laughed at Thelma's words – they were the same one's he could remember hearing from the time he was old enough to walk.

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For the rest of the afternoon Sam worked in his office revising the projected budget for the first year of the project. Most of the budget would be going to construction with every little being put toward actual research. Once that was out of the way he pulled out the personnel folders of several scientists he was interested in bringing on the project. Hopefully they wouldn't think he wanted them to invest their time in some crazy pipe dream. He knew his idea would work, knew that the math he'd done on it was good – better than good. Now he had to assemble a team together who'd share that same vision with him.

While he was working, the comforting sounds of his mother bustling around the kitchen and baking filtered through. It had been so long since he'd worked with those sounds in the background but at the same time, it seemed like it was only yesterday that he sat at the kitchen table in the farmhouse in Elk Ridge doing his homework while his mother made dinner around him. It never failed; she'd always take a couple of minutes to put a plate of cookies and glass of milk in front of him while he worked.

Smiling softly at the memories of his youth, Sam scooped up the folders he was going through and took them with him to the kitchen. Just as he suspected, his mother was using the island and the counters to do her baking and table was clear. Without saying anything to her, he pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and settled down, opening the folders in front of him and losing himself in his work again. Somehow, it all seemed easier and he was more positive he'd be able to put together the team he needed while the hominess of his mother's work surrounded him.

A short time after he sat down, a plate of still-warm chocolate chip cookies and a glass of cold milk appeared in front of him almost as if by magic. He glanced up to acknowledge his mother's thoughtfulness with a small smile. "Thanks, Mom," he said softly.

"I'm supposed to be making sure you rest today," Thelma said as she sat down next to Sam. "I don't think I've done a very good job of it. First I took you to the grocery store and now I've let you work in your office all afternoon. That's not resting."

Sam rested his hand lightly over his mother's where she'd clasped them on the edge of the table and hastened to reassure her. "I'm feeling fine, Mom. Great even so don't keep worrying about me. You've been doing more work than I have. This is just reading," he told her indicating the pile of folders.

"Well, I'd like it a lot better if you'd put work reading away and go sit in the living room and read a book." Thelma reached out a hand to brush Sam's hair back from his forehead. Although it was a maternal gesture, Sam had the sneaking suspicion it was also to check to see if he was running a fever.

"It'll make you happy if I do that?" he asked.

"Very."

"Ok. I'll put this away and go read a book." Sam started to rise from the table to put the folders away but Thelma put a hand out to stop him.

"First, sit and eat your cookies while they're still warm."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam agreed with a broad smile before starting in on the fresh-baked cookies with relish.

Once he finished with the cookies, he put the folders away in the office, grabbed a book, and settled on the couch to read. He'd only been reading for a few minutes when he put the book down and went to the fireplace. There was a chill in the house and a fire would feel good. In no time at all he had a cheery fire. Since it was already starting to get a little dark outside, he also turned on the lights on the tree and then went room to room turning on the lights that Al had put in each of the windows. Only when each of the rooms was bathed in the warm glow of the orange candles did he once more settle on the couch to read his book.

When Thelma came into the living room a short time later to see if Sam needed anything, she wasn't surprised to see that he'd dozed off while reading. Taking the book gently from his grasp, she laid it on the coffee table and then spread the quilt that was folded up on the back of the couch over her sleeping son. She fondly watched him sleeping for another little while before going back to finish her work in the kitchen.

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Sam was floating in that place that was neither sleep nor wakefulness. He was cocooned in warmth and felt too comfortable to move. If he'd been given the choice, he probably would have chosen to spend at least another few hours in that place. He wasn't given that choice, though, as the ringing of the phone dragged him to full wakefulness.

He reached out to grab the phone on the third ring but just as his hand touched the receiver, the ringing stopped. He still picked it up anyway, holding it to his ear. He only heard the dial tone.

"Must've been a wrong number," he grumbled as he hung the phone up. He'd been enjoying his rest and wasn't very pleased with whomever it was who'd decided to pull him from it. The sun had completely set and the room was only lit by the fire and the Christmas lights giving it a warm and peaceful feeling. From the kitchen, Sam could still hear the clanging of pots and pans and hazarded a guess that his mother was still hard at work with whatever she was preparing for Christmas. Taking a deep breath, he smelled the aromas of the baking she'd already done and hoped that he wouldn't have to wait until tomorrow to eat any of it. It had been too long since he'd had any of his mother's baking.

"I see you finally woke up," Thelma said as she came into the living room. She was wiping her hands off on a dishtowel that she threw over her shoulder when she was done. "I was starting to believe you were going to sleep there for the rest of the day." She came over to perch on the arm of the couch near where Sam was sitting. "Did you have a good nap?"

"Yeah, I did. I didn't think I'd fall asleep. I'd probably still be sleeping if the phone hadn't rung."

"Well, you must have needed it or else you wouldn't have fallen asleep. Who was on the phone anyway?"

"No one. It must have been a wrong number."

Thelma reached over to turn on the lamp beside the couch. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Why don't you go wash up for it?"

"What'd you make?" Sam asked. He resigned himself to the fact that no matter what he did or said, for the next couple of weeks his kitchen belonged to his mother.

"I made some fried chicken and mashed potatoes and for dessert I made your favorite."

"Peach cobbler," Sam said in a tone of voice just short of reverence.

Thelma laughed at her son's reaction to the promised dessert sending him on his way. "Yes, peach cobbler. Now go on and get washed up. Dinner will be on the table by the time you're done."

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Sam and Thelma ate a leisurely, relaxing meal. Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd had a meal that tasted as delicious as his mother's cooking and offered her his compliment the only way he knew how when he re-filled his plate a second time.

"I see you still like my friend chicken," Thelma laughed as Sam forked more of it onto his plate adding another dollop of mashed potatoes next to it.

"This is the best I've ever had," Sam said around a mouthful of the chicken.

Thelma couldn't resist teasing her son just a little. "Well you better save room or you won't be able to eat any of that peach cobbler tonight and I'd hate to see it go to waste."

"Don't worry, I'll have plenty of room for that," Sam quickly shot back with a grin.

"I'm sure you will."

Once Sam had finished clearing his plate for the second time, Thelma rose from the table and began picking up the dirty dishes. Sam also stood up as well and tried to take the dishes from his mother's hand.

"You cooked, Mom. I can do the dishes."

Thelma eyed the sling supporting Sam's arm and came to the correct conclusion that the only way he could manage to wash the dishes one-handed would most likely leave a small flood on the kitchen floor. "In any other circumstance I'd certainly agree with you but I think this is one occasion where you're better of not doing them. Why don't you put up these leftovers ? They'll make a good lunch for us tomorrow.

Seeing the wisdom in what his mother said, Sam began to bring the plates with the remaining food over to the island. It took a little bit of a hunt but eventually he found enough storage containers for all of the leftovers. "Do you want me to make some coffee to go with the cobbler?" he asked as he swung the door shut on the refrigerator.

"That's sounds good and once you get the coffee on you can start drying these dishes."

Once the pot of coffee was on to brew, Sam joined his mother at the sink and side-by-side they finished washing and drying the remaining dinner dishes. Just as the last dish was being put in the cupboard, the coffee maker finished brewing.

While Thelma pulled the cobbler out of the oven where it had been left to keep warm, Sam pulled coffee mugs down from another cupboard and brought them over to the table along with the cream and sugar. It took a second trip for him to bring over plates for them to eat the cobbler on.

"Really, Sam, paper?" Thelma said when she saw the dishes he brought to the table.

"Yes, Mom, paper. You've done enough for today. You don't need to wash anymore dishes."

Thelma dished out the cobbler onto the plates while Sam filled their mugs with coffee. Just as he was about to sit down the phone rang again. "It better not be a wrong number again," he groused. He was anxious to eat his mother's peach cobbler and the ringing phone was keeping him away from it. "Hello," he said a little more gruffly than he'd intended earning an arched brow from Thelma.

"Well, hello to you to, Big Brother," the voice on the other end said.

At the sound of his sister's voice, Sam's whole demeanor changed to one of excitement. "Katie? How are you? How's Maine?" Katie had gone to visit with Jim's family in Maine for the holidays. It had been planned when the wedding was to take place in November and when she and Jim had decided to postpone the wedding until Sam was recovered, they'd chosen to go ahead and celebrate the holidays just as they'd originally planned.

"I'm fine and Maine's cold – too cold. I don't remember it ever being this cold and snowy in Indiana."

Sam laughed at the exaggerated shiver that Katie put in her voice. Winter could be pretty cold and snowy back home so he had a feeling that what Katie was experiencing in Maine was nothing new

"Serves you right for spending all that time in Hawaii. You're getting soft."

"Oh, look who's talking. Like you'd be doing any better after all the time you've spent in New Mexico."

"Hey, I'll have you know it gets below freezing here and it does snow from time to time. It's not balmy and in the 70's all the time."

"No," Katie said with a giggle. "Just most of the time." Her voice suddenly turned serious. "Did Mom get in all right yesterday? I would have called but by the time Jim and I got here it was so late."

"Mom got in fine," Sam assured his sister. "I don't think she enjoyed the connecting flights but she got in on time. We were just finishing up with dinner."

The laughter crept back into Katie's voice. "So, how long did it take before she commandeered your kitchen and made it her own?"

Sam looked over to his mother with a twinkle in his eye seeing an opening to tease her just a little. "Oh, she waited to kick me out of it until today. I was surprised she didn't take charge of it last night already. You know how she is with kitchens, though. She's very territorial."

While Katie joined in with his laughter on the other end, Thelma came up behind Sam and whispered in his other ear. "You know, if you and your sister want to have your little fun I can just send this cobbler off to someone who'll enjoy it."

"No, Mom," Sam said quickly sobering up. "We're not having any fun. Really."

"Let me guess, she's threatening to take away your peach cobbler," Katie said unable to resist the chance to needle her brother.

"It's not funny," Sam complained.

Katie only laughed all the harder and Sam joined in. Thelma didn't say anything, just raised her eyebrow at her son. Finally, he managed to stop laughing long enough to ask Katie if she wanted to speak to Thelma.

"Go eat your cobbler," Thelma said taking the phone from Sam and shoving him gently toward the table.

While Thelma spoke with Katie about their respective trips, Sam dug into the piece of cobbler Thelma had put on his plate. By the time she hung up the phone and joined him, he was scraping the last crumbs from the plate with his fork.

"There's more where that came from," Thelma said as she scooped another helping into Sam's plate and then began to eat hers.

"I keep this up and I'm going get big as a house," Sam complained though he didn't stop eating.

"You don't stay still long enough to put on any weight," Thelma told him and he couldn't disagree with her.

When they'd eaten their fill of the peach cobbler, they retired to the living room with their coffee. The fire that Sam had built up earlier had started to die down so he added more wood to it until it reached the cheerful glow it had had earlier.

"There's something about a fire that adds to the holiday spirit," Thelma said from where she'd sat down.

"You remember that time the flue on the chimney backed up or something?" Sam asked with a chuckle as he got up from in front of the fireplace.

"Remember? Land sakes I didn't think I'd ever get the smoke aired out of the house before everyone got there. We all near froze to death with all the windows open and no matter how much I tried to keep you, Tommy, and Katie upstairs where it was warm and less smoky, you kept insisting on coming down."

Sam grabbed his cup of coffee off of the coffee table where he'd left it and settled back in a corner of the couch laughing. "Dad threatened to nail Tom's door shut to keep us in there if we kept coming downstairs. I think he would have, too."

"He most certainly would have if I'd let him." Thelma paused for a moment thinking. "How old were you that year."

"Uh, I think I was seven."

"Seven, I thought you were six for some reason."

"No. The year I was six was when Donder and Blitzen got loose in the house."

"You're right," Thelma exclaimed. "How could I have forgotten that? Oh, you should have seen the look on your face when those cats went running by you and up that tree. I think if you could have run away you would have."

Sam laughed at the memory and took a sip from his coffee. "If I didn't think Dad would probably skin them alive, I probably would have."

"I didn't know if I should be angry with you when it happened or if I should laugh. I guess you were lucky your father and Tom were able to catch them before they did much damage."

The two spent the rest of the night talking and remembering Christmases that had past and soon lost track of the time. Before they knew it, it was after midnight and the fire was already dying.

"Dear me, look at the time," Thelma said catching site of the clock on the VCR. "I can't believe how late it's gotten."

Sam was feeling mellow and wasn't ready to move from his place on the couch yet. "Don't tell me you're going to turn into a pumpkin if you stay up past midnight?" he joked.

"Mind your manners, Son," Thelma gently reprimanded. "Tomorrow's going to be a busy day so we should get some sleep now."

"Yes, Ma'am." Sam pulled himself up from his spot on the couch, went over to the fire, and banked it for the night while Thelma brought their cups to the kitchen. When she came back, she switched off the Christmas tree lights and waited while Sam checked the locks on all the doors.

"Why don't you get changed for bed and I'll come in in a few minutes to help you with the immobilizer," Thelma told him.

When she got into Sam's room, he was just coming out of the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bed while his mother secured his arm in place for the night. "How much longer do you need to wear this?" she asked once it was in place.

"At least another week," Sam answered with distaste. He'd grown weary of how hampered his movements were at night because of the position his arm was held in.

"Well, I guess that's better than another month," Thelma reasoned. She waited until Sam had settled in bed before kissing him goodnight. "I'll see you in the morning, Sweetheart."

"I feel like I'm five years old again and you're tucking me in," Sam remarked.

Thelma smoothed the blanket over Sam and brushed back his hair. "Some habits are hard to break. Have a good night."

"You too, Mom."

Thelma quietly slipped from the room turning the light off on her way and pushing the door partially closed. She checked the fireplace herself to be sure that it was out before also checking the locks on the door. Satisfied that all was secure, she sought the comfort of her own bed.


	11. December 24, 1987 pt 1

**Thursday, December 24, 1987**

Christmas Eve dawned gray and drizzly. The sunny weather of the past several days quickly became a memory. Sam awoke early and hoped that this morning he could surprise his mother by returning her favor of breakfast in bed the previous morning. It wouldn't be anything elaborate considering the way he was feeling but he still wanted to surprise her.

Once he was out of bed and out from under the covers he realized that the cold and dampness outside had made the house cold as well. He pulled on a pair of socks unwilling to step on the tile floor in the kitchen barefoot and then went into the closet to look for the despised sweatshirt. He'd promised his mother he wouldn't wear it unless absolutely necessary. Well, until the house warmed up he was deeming it necessary. He also found a pair of slippers that he rarely wore and put those on his feet as well and then trudged out to the kitchen. It was the kind of gray day where you'd rather stay in bed as long as possible.

It wasn't until he reached the kitchen and saw Thelma already at work making scrambled eggs at the stove that he realized that, yet again, she'd awakened before him. "Morning, Mom," he mumbled before bussing her on the cheek on his way to the coffee maker. To say he was happy to see that the pot was filled with fresh brewed coffee would have been an understatement.

"Good morning, Sweetheart," Thelma cheerily greeted him. "Did you sleep well last night?"

Sam slumped down at on one of the stools at the island and cradled his cup of coffee in his hand. He leaned down as close as he could to it so that the steam warmed his face. "Sorta. My shoulder was pretty sore last night. It's probably because the weather got so damp."

Without a word, Thelma picked up the prescription bottle of painkillers from where it was on the kitchen counter and put it down in front of Sam. He picked up the bottle and toyed with it turning it over in his hand and listening as the pills rattled inside before putting it back down.

"Thanks but I think I'll be fine without taking any of these."

Thelma pushed the bottle closer to him. "There's no sense in suffering if you don't have to. You don't have to be a martyr, Sam. If you're in pain, take something to stop it."

"Ok," Sam agreed, "but I don't need anything this strong. I'll take a couple of Tylenol." What he didn't add was that he hoped that taking the Tylenol would also make a dent in the headache he had that he attributed to not getting enough sleep the previous night.

Thelma stood across from him on the other side of the island with her arms crossed watching him impatiently.

"What?" Sam asked when he caught sight of her expression.

"I'm waiting for you to get up and take get the Tylenol, that's what. I know you, you'll just sit there and hope I forget about it and then take nothing at all and keep suffering in silence."

"I'm going," Sam sighed getting up from the stool. He came back a minute later with the bottle of Tylenol in his hand. Once he'd sat down, he popped the cap off and swallowed two of them with his coffee.

"Thank you," Thelma said once he'd swallowed the two pills and then turned back to the stove. "This should be ready in a couple of minutes. Why don't you get some plates down for us?" Thelma waited for Sam to either answer her or get up and get the plates down but there was no answer from him. "Sam?" she questioned turning around to him. When she did, she saw that he'd fallen asleep with his chip cupped in his hand. "Sa-am," she called gently and shook his arm.

"Huh? I'm awake," Sam said quickly sitting upright. "I'm just resting my eyes."

"I'm sure," Thelma said dryly before again asking him to get the plates for breakfast. She took them from the counter where Sam placed them and filled them both with the scrambled eggs and bacon she'd made. Since Sam had returned to his place on the stool, she put his plate down in front of him there and then sat across from him with her plate. "It'll do you a whole lot more good if you put it in your mouth to eat instead of just pushing it around the plate," Thelma advised Sam. She'd watched as he'd toyed with the food on his plate but seemed reluctant to eat any of it.

"Yeah, I guess." Sam gave his mother a small, half-smile and picked up a piece of bacon from his plate and bit a piece of it off before he returned to toying with the eggs on his plate. Eventually he got up, went to the fridge, pulled a bottle of ketchup from it, and poured a generous helping of it on his plate before returning it to the fridge. Once he sat down again he started to eat the eggs, dunking them in the ketchup.

Thelma kept a watchful gaze on her son as he ate, and toyed, with his breakfast. He seemed off to her this morning and she was concerned as to what the reason could be. When he put down his fork and pushed his half-full plate away saying that he'd eaten enough, Thelma let her concern guide her words. "Are you feeling ok, Sam. You've eaten hardly anything and you seem like you're really dragging this morning. I can't imagine it's just because you didn't sleep well."

"Yeah, I'm ok, Mom. I just…I don't know…I just feel like I'm not quite up to speed this morning. Kinda like I'm coming down with something." He shrugged, "I'll be ok in a little while." He pulled his plate back to him and forked up more of the eggs to eat hoping to appease his mother and dispel some of her concern. It didn't work.

Thelma got up from her place at the island and came around to stand next to Sam pressing a hand to his forehead. "You do feel just a little bit warm," she told him.

"I'm sure it's nothing. I'm probably just getting a cold or something, that's all."

"And maybe you should call your doctor and tell him you're not feeling well," Thelma suggested. Her hand had moved from Sam's forehead to the back of his neck that she was rubbing gently.

Sam again pushed the plate away and made and effort to straighten up. "It's Christmas Eve, Mom. I doubt if I call the office, I'm going to talk to anyone. Besides, I have an appointment with Dr. Stone on Monday. If it's something, he'll catch it."

"That's not for another four days, Sam. I don't think it's a good idea to wait that long,"

"Mom, trust me. This is nothing more than a garden variety cold and I bet I'll be feeling better by this afternoon." He got up from the stool and grabbed his plate from counter to take to the sink. "Stop worrying," he told Thelma as he walked by her and pecked her on the cheek.

Thelma intercepted Sam on his way to the sink and pulled the plate from his hand. "I'll stop worrying on one condition. You go lie down on the couch and rest."

"I don't need to lie down," Sam protested.

"I could send you back to bed," Thelma offered. "And you know I have ways of making sure you stay put there."

Sam colored slightly at Thelma's implied threat. "I'll lie down on the couch." When he saw the look of triumph on Thelma's face he hastened to add, "right after I take a shower."

Thelma turned to the sink and started to fill it with water to wash the breakfast dishes. "They say that doctors make the worst patients and you certainly live up to that."

Sam hugged his mother from behind. "You wouldn't want all that time I spent in school to be wasted, would you?" he asked lightly.

Thelma patted Sam's hand where it rested on her waist. "I don't think anything you've done has ever been a waste of time."

Sam's rested his forehead lightly against the back of his mother's head grateful for her words. He knew that there were more than a few people who considered the time he'd spent in school and the degrees he'd accumulated a waste of time. Sometimes he'd second-guess himself and his thoughts would drift that way too. Hearing his mother say that nothing he'd done in his life was a waste was a reassurance he needed from time to time. "Thanks, Mom. That means a lot."

Thelma tried to hide the wince of sympathy she felt when she heard the sincerity and gratitude in his thanks. Sam may have been a genius but she knew that sometimes he could be a very insecure little boy and needed her approval for the choices he made. "I know, Sweetie," she said softly as she patted his hand once more. "Now you best go on before I really do send you back to bed."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam laughed as he dropped a light kiss on his mother's head. As he was going through the doorway, Thelma called him back.

"Did Al say what time he was coming over?"

"No," Sam answered. "I didn't ask him either. Want me to give him a call?" Before Thelma could answer the doorbell rang. "Or I could just let him in," Sam said.

When Sam pulled open the front door, all he could see was a pile of brightly wrapped boxes with a pair of legs down the bottom. "Al?" he asked just to be sure.

"No, it's Santa Claus."

"Well, you're a little early then, Santa," Sam teased. "I guess you'll just have to come back."

"Ha ha, Smartass. You think you can take a couple of these?"

Sam pulled the top couple of packages off the pile to reveal Al's smiling face. "What is all of this?" he asked with a laugh. "It looks like you bought the stores out."

"It's Christmas presents, that's what it is," Al answered as he brushed past Sam. "By the way, I like that outfit, really nice jammies. I'm so glad you dressed for the occasion."

Sam followed Al into the living room where he'd bent down to put the gifts under the tree. "I just got up a little while ago and just finished breakfast," Sam explained. "If I'd known you were going to be here this early and there was a dress code I'd have made sure to set my alarm." Once Al was done putting the gifts he had under the tree, Sam bent over to put the few he was still holding there as well. When he straightened up from his bent over position he had to quickly close his eyes and reach out to grab onto Al's arm to steady himself as the world did a slow turn.

"Whoa," Al exclaimed grabbing onto Sam and leading him over the piano bench that was the closest seat. "What's the matter, Sam? You're not looking so good."

"It's nothing," Sam said shaking off the sudden spell of light-headedness. "I just straightened up too fast that's all. C'mon, don't tell me the same thing's never happened to you before?" He pushed himself up from the piano bench to prove to Al that he really was ok.

Al wasn't able to hide his skepticism over Sam's assertion of being fine. "If you say so, Kid. I think you look like hell, though."

"I didn't sleep well last night and I might be coming down with a cold, that's it." Sam started to push Al in the direction of the front door. "Do you have anything else out there that you need to bring in?"

"Yeah, I need to get out the stuff for dinner tonight," Al said when they reached the door.

"Well, c'mon, I'll help you bring it in," Sam said as he pulled open the door.

When Sam started to walk out Al pulled him back in. "I don't think so. In case you've forgotten already, you still have your pajamas on. I'll go get the stuff out of the car; you might want to think about putting something else on."

Sam rolled his eyes when Al reminded him of his state of dress. "Yeah, cause my nearest neighbors, the jackrabbit family, might be a little scandalized to see me running around outside in nothing but my flannel pj's."

"They might not mind but your mother would," Thelma said joining the two men in the foyer. She put out her arms to greet Al with a hug and kiss. "I'm glad you'll be spending Christmas with us," she said.

"I'm honored that you and Sam wanted me to join you. It's going to be the first time in a long time – too long, that I've had a real Christmas. Thank you for including me."

Sam clapped Al on the shoulder when he heard his words while Thelma wrapped him up in another embrace. "We wouldn't have it any other way."

When Thelma let him go Al cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Sam. "I thought you were going to go dressed," he reminded him in an effort to break the weight of the moment.

"Yeah, I guess I was." Sam started to go in the direction of his room but stopped when a thought occurred to him. "Mom, try not to get so territorial about the kitchen. You need to let Al in there if he's cooking dinner tonight."

"Go on, you," Thelma said while playfully swatting Sam on the bottom. His laugh trailed behind him even after he disappeared into his bedroom.

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It was a wonder what taking a shower did for Sam. When he got out, he was feeling much better than he had all morning. The nagging headache he'd woken up with had all but disappeared and even his shoulder wasn't feeling as sore. Only the slight stuffiness he could feel in his head lingered.

He pulled on a comfortable, well-worn pair of jeans and butter-soft flannel shirt. Later when he went to church with his mother he'd change into a suit but for now, comfort was his aim. Grabbing some of the gifts for Al that were still in his room, he took them out to the living room and placed them under the tree arranging them so they were just perfect. He made two more trips in and out of his bedroom until all of the gifts were moved.

Satisfied with the placement of the gifts, he followed the soft conversation he heard filtering out of the kitchen. He stopped in shock just inside the doorway at the sight that greeted his eyes.

"Mom, is something wrong? Are you ok?" He rushed over to his mother, concern for her taking over every fiber of his being.

"I'm fine, Sam," Thelma answered bewildered at the cause of her son's reaction.

"Are you sure, Mom? I mean, I've never seen you just sit in the kitchen while someone else was cooking."

Sure enough, while Thelma sat at the kitchen island sipping a cup of tea, Al had donned a white apron and was chopping, stirring and cooking.

Once she knew what had caused Sam's reaction, Thelma started to laugh softly. "I don't think Sam's ever seen me just sit down in the kitchen while any kind of food preparation was going on," she explained to Al who joined in with her laughter.

"That's not true. You let Grandma do the cooking when you were pregnant with Katie."

"That's true, I'd almost forgot about that. You were only three at the time. I can't believe you still remember that." Thelma said with surprise.

"I was so scared that something was going to happen to you," Sam admitted. "I guess that's why I've never forgotten it."

"I take it things weren't going well?" Al asked from his place near the stove. He had the distinct impression that, just for a moment the two Beckett's had forgotten he was there.

"My pregnancy with Katie was…difficult," Thelma explained. "That whole year was difficult. Drought, the crops failed, Tommy broke his arm and Sam had the worst flu. On top of all that, I was pregnant and not doing well. I spent most of the time in bed and we weren't sure I'd carry the baby to term."

"But you did?" Al clarified.

"I did," Thelma agreed. She reached up to caress Sam's cheek. "I always felt like I had you to thank for it."

"Me?" Sam asked, brow wrinkled in confusion. "What did I do?"

"You don't remember what you asked Santa Claus to bring you that year, do you?"

Sam thought hard trying to remember what he could have possibly wanted for Christmas when he was only three years old. His face brightened up when a memory came to him. "I wanted a red wagon and electric trains."

"Yes, you did. Think hard, though, there was one other thing. A very special thing."

Silence descended over the kitchen as Sam sent his mind back to that Christmas trying so hard to remember what it was that he'd wanted. This time when it came to him, a soft smile graced his features. "I asked Santa to make you all better so you didn't get sick anymore."

"That's right, you did and things got easier for the rest of my term. I always said it was because you were so generous when you talked to Santa." Thelma gave Sam a little squeeze to reinforce her words. "You always put everyone else first, even when you were just a little bit of a thing."

"Sounds like what I keep telling you," Al chimed in.

"Well, I wouldn't say I was that generous, Mom." Sam was trying to deflect some of the credit he was being given. "I was being selfish, too. I figured if you were better then we could bake Christmas cookies."

"Mmmhmmm," Thelma agreed though she was swayed from her thoughts on the matter. "I was thinking we could do that this afternoon once Al had his dinner preparations well in hand."

Sam indicated the pile of wrapped baked goods at the other end of the island. "Like you haven't baked enough already."

"This is different. It's a tradition to make Christmas cookies together," Thelma answered.

"Every year when we were growing up Mom would bake Christmas cookies with us a few days before Christmas." Sam explained to Al. "She'd mix the dough together and roll it out and then let us cut it with the cookie cutters and after they were baked we got to decorate them with icing and sprinkles."

"Sounds like a nice tradition," Al said. He put the rest of the tomatoes he'd been cutting into the pot on the stove and gave it a stir before covering it. "That's needs to simmer for a couple of hours now."

"What time did you plan on having dinner?" Thelma asked.

"Probably around 6:00. Is that ok with the two of you?" Al had started to clean off the counter and waved off Sam when he started to help.

"Six should be perfect."

"Better make it more like 6:30," Sam advised and seeing his mother's questioning look added, "if you want to go to church tonight we'll need some time to get back."

"6:30, then," Al agreed. "Everything will be ready by the time the two of you get back."

Thelma quickly bit off the invitation she was going to extend to Al to join them when she caught sight of Sam. He very minutely shook his head at her guessing what she'd been about to say. Instead, she directed her words at her son instead. "I thought you were going to lie down on the couch and rest once you were out of the shower. You didn't think I'd forgotten had you."

"I feel a lot better since I took my shower, Mom. I don't need to lie down," Sam protested.

"That may be so but you sound like someone's stuffed you head with cotton and even if it is just a cold you're coming down with it won't be as bad if you get some rest. Now go on. After lunch we'll bake some Christmas cookies but for now I want you to rest."

One look at the firm and determined look on his mother's face and Sam knew it wasn't worth it to protest anymore. "Ok, I'll go sit on the couch but I'm not going to go to sleep."

"I don't care if you sleep or not, I just want you to rest."

As he left the kitchen, Sam couldn't help but overhear his mother quietly tell Al that he'd be asleep with 15 minutes.

He settled on the couch and fished out the remote from between the couch cushions. He was determined that he'd prove his mother wrong and all he needed to do was find a suitable program to keep him occupied. In the course of his channel surfing he settled for a minute on a cartoon – one that he remembered watching at Christmas when he was younger. He propped one of the couch cushions against the arm of the couch to lean against and settled down comfortably to continue his channel surfing. He never got further than the Christmas cartoon as his eyes drifted shut while the little mouse Albert frantically tried to repair the clock before midnight so that its joyfully singing could welcome Santa to the town.

He didn't hear Thelma and Al come in the room or feel it as Thelma draped the quilt over his sleeping body. And he didn't hear as Al whispered to Thelma, "remind me never to bet against you."

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Al glanced over to the sleeping man as he murmured in his sleep and shifted position before returning his attention once again to the photo album that was opened across his and Thelma's lap. "So, if he wakes up and sees me looking at these pictures what are the chances Mr. Non-Violence will change his ways."

Thelma also looked across to her sleeping son. "Oh, I'm sure he'll bluster and complain but his bark's really worse than his bite."

Al could have contradicted Thelma. He'd watched Sam going through some of his martial arts workouts and knew that he could be as deadly with his hands and feet as Al could be with a gun. Some things parents were better of not knowing. Hell, he didn't even know why Sam had become so proficient at several forms of martial arts. He was sure Sam had his reasons, though.

"So how old was he in this picture?" Al asked drawing Thelma's attention back to the photo album. He pointed to a photo of a young Sam dressed in costume of some sort holding the hand of a girl about his age who was also dressed in costume. To Al, it looked like Sam was holding the girl's hand only at the insistence of the photographer.

"That one. Let's see, Sam was, I think he was 8 in that one. He was dressed up to play the part of Joseph in the Sunday School Christmas pageant. Oh could I tell you a story to go along with that one."

Unbeknownst to the two looking at the pictures, the object of their discussion had woken up and was staring across the space that separated them. "Mom, don't you dare." His voice was hoarse from sleep but it carried the unmistakable tone of someone who wanted to be spared an embarrassing moment.

"Oh, now I've got to know the story behind it," Al said gleefully. "Anything that's gonna get his dander up has got to be a good one."

"You know the part where Joseph went from inn to inn looking for room…"

Al nodded to indicate his familiarity with the story. Sam, who had sat back up on the couch, sank further down into it trying to disappear into the cushions.

"Well, my little Sammy gets to the last inn and the innkeeper tells him there's no room. We'd practiced and rehearsed this so many times that he knew the whole thing backwards and forwards. He was supposed to ask if there was anyplace else they could stay but instead my Sammy asks the innkeeper if they can use the bathroom instead and of course everyone just started to laugh at that."

"Mooom," Sam begged sinking even further into the cushions.

Al shot a quick look over to Sam seeing his obvious discomfort. "So then what happened?" he asked to the obvious distress of Sam.

"Well, he repeated it again but this time he looked at me in the audience and added in 'I really gotta go, Mom.' Well, that was it; the whole place just broke down into gales of laughter. I had to take Sam off the stage and back to the boys' room and they had to hold up the whole pageant until Joseph was ready to continue."

Al started to laugh and couldn't stop. Soon he was wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "You announced from the stage that you had to go to the bathroom."

"When you gotta go," Sam grumbled. "At least I didn't drop baby Jesus on his head."

"Someone dropped the baby on his head?" Al questioned as he started to laugh again.

"Katie did," Sam quickly supplied. "The year she was Mary, she dropped the doll they were using for the baby. One minute it was in her hands, the next minute it bounced on its head across the stage."

"Your poor sister was mortified when that happened."

"I can imagine she must have been," Al commiserated with the absent Katie.

"Wait a minute, how come you both feel bad for Katie but you were laughing at me?" Sam asked in mock outrage.

"Simple," Al responded with a shrug. "You're here and your sister's not. That makes it easier to tease you."

Sam took the cushion he'd been lying on and threw it at Al's head. "Makes it easier to hit you," Sam said impishly.

Al grabbed the cushion from where it fell to the floor after bouncing harmlessly off his head and hurled it back at Sam. Unfortunately, his aim was off and instead of bouncing off Sam's head as he'd intended it to; the cushion caught a glancing blow on his injured shoulder.

"Hey watch where you throw that thing," Sam cried out in mock horror while cradling his injured arm. "In case you've forgotten, I'm injured."

"Boys, boys," Thelma chastised as she waded into the fray stepping between them and taking charge of the pillow. "Behave yourselves."

"Or what?" Sam challenged. The humor and joy he was feeling was shining from his eyes.

"Or else I won't let you help with cookies," Thelma mock threatened.

Sam folded his hands in his lap and sat up perfectly straight. He cast his eyes down to his lap and looked up at Thelma through his eyelashes giving the impression of the proper choirboy Al often accused him of being. "I'm being good, honest," he said in his sincerest voice.

Thelma laughed at here son's antics and ruffled his hair affectionately before sliding her hand down to rest on his forehead. "You don't feel warm like you did this morning. That nap probably did you a world of good."

"I told you I was ok and not to worry," Sam said smiling up at Thelma. "If I don't get something to eat soon, though, I might pass out from starvation."

"Like I keep saying, you're always starving."

Sam pointedly ignored Al's remark. "How 'bout we eat the rest of that friend chicken you made last night."

"It's going to take a little while to warm it up," Thelma pointed out. "That is unless you want to eat it cold."

"Cold's fine," Sam happily agreed getting up from the couch and leading the others to the kitchen. By the time they joined him there he'd already pulled the remaining friend chicken out of the fridge. He was just about to reach in and grab a drumstick to start eating when Thelma tapped his hand lightly causing him to pull it back.

"We'll set the table and eat like civilized people."

"Yes, Ma'am" Sam quickly agreed and started pulling the necessary dishes from the cupboard and handing them to Al to set on the table.

Once the table was set and the leftovers had been moved to it, the three of them sat down to the hearty meal. Mother and son continued to banter good-naturedly and Al held his own with the two of them. Every now and then he'd stop and grow quiet, thankful that he'd been included in this special family time. He'd always kidded Sam about having a Norman Rockwell type of childhood and now he was being allowed into it if only for a little while.

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With lunch consumed and the remains of it cleaned up, Thelma announced that it was time to bake the Christmas cookie. When she started bustling around the kitchen pulling out the ingredients she needed, Al offered to help her. Sam, who'd sat down on one of the stools at the island grabbed Al by the belt and pulled him down on the stool next to him. "Right now you just want to stay out of Mom's way," he advised.

"You'd best listen to him," Thelma chimed in. "The two of you just sit there out of the way until it's time for you boys to help."

Side by side, they watched while Thelma combined the ingredients in a bowl and mixed them together. Once it was mixed to her satisfaction, it was time to let Sam and Al help. "Sam, honey, sprinkle some of the flour on the counter so the dough doesn't stick when I roll it out."

Sam reached into the canister of flour, grabbed a handful of the white powder, and started to gently sprinkle it over the counter. He was an old pro at doing this having helped his mother with the Christmas cookies since he was small. Thelma couldn't envision what could possibly go wrong as she turned from the two men to look through one of the kitchen drawers for a rolling pin. Behind her, she heard Sam sneeze but thought nothing of it until she heard the yelp from Al that followed it. She turned around quickly to find Sam standing in open-mouthed shock staring at a flour-speckled Al who stared back at Sam equally shocked. "What in God's name happened?" she asked looking between the two.

"You threw that in my face," Al accused.

Sam started to sputter an apology and an explanation. "I didn't mean to. Honest. It's just I sneezed and the flour went all over and you were there. Geez, I'm so sorry." He started to brush the flower from Al forgetting that his hand was still flour covered. He only succeeded in spreading more flour over Al, which prompted another series of sputtered apologies.

Thelma caught the mischievous look in Al's eyes though she wasn't sure that Sam had. She wasn't surprised when Al reached into the canister of flour and scooped up a small handful that he promptly threw at Sam.

As soon as the white puff of flour hit his face, Sam's apology died out. "What'd you do that for?" he asked in genuine surprise.

"Turn about's fair-play," Al answered sitting back on the stool in satisfaction.

"I told you I didn't do it on purpose," Sam again protested. "It was an accident."

"And I accidentally threw it back at you so we're even," Al replied as he ineffectually brushed at the flour covering his shoulders.

Thelma recognized the signs in her son and wondered if Al did. Sam wasn't about to meekly let Al's actions go. "Samuel," she said in warning. "Whatever you're thinking of doing just remember he's got two good arms to your one."

Sam smiled sweetly at his mother. "Doing? I wasn't planning on doing anything, Mom. Well, except for this." Faster than either would have given him credit for, Sam darted his hand in the canister pulling out another handful of flour that was quickly thrown at Al. With that throw, Thelma realized that the war was on as Al retaliated just as quickly.

She tried to wade into the fray and break up the crazy flour war that had broken out but quickly realized she was better off staying on the sidelines. The only thing she did do was pull the canister of flour away from them when they'd reached in one too many times and pull the bowl with the cookie dough out of the direct line of fire. That didn't deter them as they started sweeping up what had landed on the counter and throwing that at each other. Through it all, both of them laughed merrily and Thelma joined in her own laughter at their antics.

It had been far too long since she'd Sam interact with anyone like he did with Al. The last time she could remember had been with Tom. For just a moment, she felt a pang of remorse as she watched the two men horsing around. It should Tom that Sam was engaged in the flour war with not this man who was a stranger. If she wanted to go even further in that perfect world, John would still be with them and they'd be in the farmhouse in Indiana not this house in the New Mexico dessert. Even in that image, though, she saw Al right there with her two boys getting into just as much trouble. Some things, she realized, were destined to be and Sam's friendship with Al was one of them.

Finally, Thelma called a halt to the war but not before she also got hit in the face with a small handful of flour.

"Oh boy," Sam breathed out when he realized it was his mother's face that was covered in the flour and not Al.

Thelma was at first shocked in surprise at Sam's unintentional attack but one look at his face smeared in white flour, his hazel eyes wide in surprise at what he'd done, quickly overwhelmed her shock, and she began to laugh again. The two men joined in with her laughter.

Eventually Thelma sobered up and attempted to wipe the flour from her face. "I think we've had enough fooling around now or we'll never get these done in time."

Thelma started to roll out the dough letting the boys, as she'd started to think of them, cut it out with Christmas shaped cookie cutters. Though the all out war may have ended, small skirmishes still broke out from time to time during the cutting portion of the baking. Eventually all of the cookies had been cut and placed in the oven. Thelma handed a damp cloth to both men and ordered them to clean up the floor and the counter from the impromptu war.

By the time the kitchen had been cleaned of all traces of the flour war, Thelma was sliding the last tray of cookies out of the oven and putting them on a rack to cool. The others that had already cooled she piled on a plate and brought them over the island where Sam and Al were once again sitting like expectant little boys. "Let's try to keep these on the cookies," she told them as she put several shakers of candy sprinkles down in front of them.

While she frosted the cookies with colorful icing, Sam and Al put the finishing touches on them with the colorful sprinkles and, when they thought she wasn't looking, they'd eat a few of the cookies.

Eventually all of the cookies had been frosted and decorated and were laid out in a platter ready to be consumed that night with Thelma's homemade eggnog. She stood back from the counter surveying the work that they'd done and then looked fondly at Sam and Al. Both of them were still liberally dotted with flour and she spotted traces of red icing around Sam's mouth and a dob of green icing on the tip of Al's nose. "Look at the two of you," she fondly sighed. "You look like two little boys who got into your mama's baking."

The two smiled back at her impishly and Sam reached a finger into the bowl of red icing and scooped some up. At first, he made off that he was going to lick the icing off his finger but at the last moment, he leaned forward and dropped it on his mother's nose.

"Oh you," Thelma lovingly said as she gently slapped Sam on the arm with the towel she had in her hand. She looked at the clock and sighed. She hated to break up the merriment they'd all been having in the kitchen while baking the cookies but it was starting to get late. If she and Sam were going to make it to services on time they'd have to start cleaning up.

"I hate to break up the fun the two of you have had but we'd better get a move on. Sam, what time did you say service was tonight?"

"Uh, I think it's at 5:00. We should probably leave here early, though."

"Well, why don't you go get cleaned up and changed and I'll do the same thing as soon as I finish cleaning all of this up."

Al took the towel from Thelma and pushed her gently toward the door. "Don't you worry about this. I'll finish cleaning all of this up and by the time the two of you get back I'll have dinner ready on the table."

"Are you sure, Al," Thelma asked uncertainly. I hate the thought of leaving you with this mess.

"Sure I'm sure," he told her. "Now go on."

Once Thelma was out of the room Al turned to Sam. "Tell me one thing, was baking Christmas cookies always like this?"

Sam laughed softly at Al's question. "Not always. Sometimes we'd empty out all of the flour before Mom got the canister away from us. She always made sure that it was the last of her Christmas baking just in case. Every year she'd always threaten that that was the last year she'd let us help but come the next year we'd do it all again."

"She's quite a lady."

"Yeah, she really is," Sam agreed softly. "I better go take a quick shower and get changed," he said more strongly. "If we leave early enough, Mom and I can take a walk through the plaza and see the lights before we go to church."

Al watched Sam leave the kitchen and again realized just how lucky he was to be sharing this holiday and to be part of a family.


	12. December 24, 1987 pt 2

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A half hour after he'd left the kitchen, Sam reappeared. He had on the charcoal gray pants from his suit and a white dress shirt. In his hand he carried a conservative striped maroon tie. His jacket and sling were draped over his arm. He dropped his jacket and sling on the back of a chair and turned to Al who'd started to finish the preparations for the dinner. "Hey, Al, can you give me a hand with this?" he asked holding the tie out.

Al grabbed a towel off the counter to wipe of his hands and took the tie from Sam. "That arms still supposed to be in a sling," he admonished when he saw that Sam didn't have it on.

"I know and I'll put it back on once I get my suit jacket on. It's not like I'm swinging it around." Sam stood patiently in front of Al while he tied the tie for him.

"There, you're all set," he said once the tie was to his liking. Once he'd helped Sam into his suit jacket, he grabbed the sling and helped Sam to situate his arm in it comfortably. As he finished, Thelma came into the kitchen.

"Don't you look handsome," she said when she caught sight of her son dressed to accompany her to church. She brushed off the shoulders of his jacket of any lint – real or imagined – and tweaked the knot on his tie so it was just so. "Perfect," she said stepping back to that he was arm's length.

"You look great, Mom," Sam told her taking in the sight of his mother. She'd changed from the simple cotton dress she'd had on earlier to one of a deep emerald green accented with white lace at the collar. Although her hair was still pulled back – Sam couldn't remember a time when he'd ever seen his mother with her hair down – it was much looser than it had been earlier, framing her face. A simple strand of pearls accented her dress matching perfectly the pearl earrings she wore. Sam knew that both had been a gift to her from his father when his brother Tom had been born.

"You're both a matching pair," Al said from where he'd retreated to the kitchen. "I'm starting to feel under-dressed over here."

Mother and son laughed as they took in the Admiral's appearance. His black trousers and bright blue shirt were still liberally accented by the flour that had been thrown about earlier. Sam noticed, though, that he had wiped the icing off of his nose.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to make sure you're dressed appropriately for dinner by the time we get back," Thelma told him breezily.

"I thought we could leave a little early, Mom. The church is right near the plaza in the center of town and I thought we could take a walk through there and see the Christmas lights."

"That's a splendid idea, Sam." Thelma turned to Al, "Are you sure you don't want to come along, Al?

"Oh, no Ma'am," Al answered. "I've got to much work to do here."

"If you're sure."

"I am, Ma'am," Al answered.

"We'll see you later, Al," Sam said walking from the kitchen. He escorted his mother to foyer and pulled her coat out of the closet for her. He held it awkwardly in one hand trying to help her in it before getting his own coat from the closet. When they walked by the kitchen door on the way to the garage, Sam waved at Al who waved back.

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As they drove to the church, Sam noticed that the gray drizzle of earlier had changed over to a light snow. There was already a thin coating of it one the road and looked like by morning, if it kept up the way it was falling, there'd be a noticeable snow.

As they drove into town, they saw the luminaries lining the walkways outside of many of the houses. When Thelma asked about them, Sam explained that it was traditional form of decorating for Christmas. When she'd asked why Sam didn't have any outside of his home, he shrugged and honestly confessed that until that moment he'd forgotten all about it.

The parked the car close to the church and got out walking in the direction of the plaza. It was just a little bit before 4:30 leaving them plenty of time to wander around looking at the Christmas lights before they'd have to head into the church which was located close by.

"You're not too cold, are you, Mom?" Sam asked of his mother solicitously.

"Heavens no. You forget that I spent nearly my whole life in Indiana. It would have to be a site colder out before it bothered me." Thelma slipped and arm around Sam's waist pulling him in close to her as the walked. "What about you? You're not too cold are you? You said you felt like you were coming down with a cold. I don't want it to get any worse."

"I fine, Mom."

The two spent the next 15 minutes walking through the plaza enjoying the glow of the Christmas lights. The falling snow brought a sense of peace to the scene that neither wanted to break. In the distance they could hear the squeals of delight of children enjoying the sight of the lights and the freshly fallen snow and in the distance they could hear carolers singing in the falling darkness. It was a special time for mother and son, one that they would both treasure for years to come.

Eventually they walked to the nearby church and joined the steady stream of people filing in. They found seats near the middle and sat down as more and more people came in and sat around them. Thelma exclaimed softly over the decorations inside the church and even Sam marveled at how the simple greenery and poinsettias brought such warmth to the old adobe walls of the building. Soon the organ began to play and they rose with the rest of the congregation joining their voices with those of the choir and those who were around them as they sang the opening hymn,_ O Come All Yee Faithful_.

For just a moment, as the music washed over him, Sam had to pause and draw in a deep breath as the memories of sitting with his family in a small church in Indiana singing the same song washed over him. He brushed away a tear at the thought that his father and brother would no longer share in that before reaching down to take Thelma's hand and squeezed it tightly. Thelma returned the squeeze understanding the memories that Sam was experiencing as she experienced them herself.

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The first thing Sam noticed when he pushed open the door leading from the garage was the aroma of Al's clam sauce. The second thing he noticed was Christmas music softly playing in what he thought was the direction of the kitchen. "Honey, we're home!" he called out closing the door behind Thelma.

At the sound of Sam's voice, Al met them at the kitchen door. "You're just in time. Why don't you go take your coats off and I'll have dinner served when you get in here."

Al had placed himself strategically in the doorway to the kitchen so that no matter how hard he tried, Sam couldn't see around him and into the room. The Christmas music he'd heard, though, was indeed coming from the small radio kept in the kitchen.

After he'd hung up his and his mother's coat, they went back to the kitchen. Al had his back to them as he lit two candles that had been placed on the table.

"Madame," Al graciously said pulling out one of the chairs for Thelma to sit on and then pushing it in close to the table.

Sam stared with shock at the sight of his kitchen table. It was covered with a damask tablecloth in a deep-shade of wine and even though the dishes and cups set he recognized as coming from his cupboards, they still seemed to sparkle and shine with the reflected light of the candles. At each setting, a rich, green linen napkin was folded on the plate. The lights in the kitchen had been turned off with the exception of the fixture that hung over the kitchen table but it had been dimmed allowing the candles to provide the majority of the light. "This is my kitchen table, isn't it?" he asked in wonder.

"No, it belongs to the guy up the street, he's letting up borrow it," Al answered sarcastically. "Of course it's your kitchen table you nut. You've just never seen it set properly. Now sit down so we can eat."

"Where did all of this come from?" Sam asked fingering the napkin before laying it in his lap. "Did you buy all of this?"

"No, it was in that bottom drawer over there. Don't you know what's in your kitchen?"

"Donna must have bought it," Sam replied quietly. "I haven't gone in that drawer since before…"

Al, who was still standing, came to stand next to Sam dropping a supporting hand onto his shoulder. "Oh Kid, I didn't know. I'm sorry that I used it. If I'd known I would have found something else."

Sam looked up to Al forcing a smile to his face that didn't reach his eyes. "No, it's ok, Al. You didn't know. Let's just enjoy this dinner and forget all about her."

Al gave a short nod and took his place at the table opposite Sam.

Thelma reached over and lay a gentle hand on Sam's arm. "Are you sure your ok, Sweetheart."

"Yeah, Mom, I am." Again, Sam forced a smile to his face but this time, when he looked across to Al sitting across from him and his mother sitting next to him it was a more genuine smile. "I really am. Now let's dig in. This looks amazing."

The awkwardness brought up by the mention of Donna soon passed as the three began eating the wonderful dinner that Al had prepared. In addition to the linguine with clam sauce, there was also freshly made garlic bread. In deference to the fact that Sam was still taking prescription pain relievers, Al had forgone a bottle of wine and instead had poured out a bottle of sparkling cider. When Thelma remarked on the taste of it, he told her he had another one stashed away for their Christmas dinner the next day.

They were almost through with their dinner when Al pushed himself back in his seat and looked sternly at Thelma. "You know, I'm really disappointed, Mrs. Beckett."

"Disappointed? Whatever for?" Thelma asked in confusion.

"Well, it's just that I go out of my way to dress up extra nice for dinner and you didn't even notice. I really am hurt, especially since you told me I had to." He took the sting out of his words with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

"Well, I didn't think it had to be said but you do look quite handsome, Admiral Calavicci."

In place of the flour-speckled clothes he'd had on when the Becketts had left for church, Al had changed into black dress pants with a very subtle silvery pin stripe. He complimented it with a rich, black silk shirt and topped that off with a black vest shot through with silver. A thin, silver tie finished off the outfit.

"You know, Al, I think that's the most conservative I've ever seen you dress. You almost look like a grown-up."

"I think that's the first time I've seen you with a real tie and not a clip-on," Al quickly countered.

"Now, now, boys," Thelma chastised. "It's Christmas Eve so no arguing. I think you both look very handsome."

"Thanks, Mom," Sam quietly responded.

Al also thanked Thelma for the compliment but took it one step further. "My dear lady, coming from you that is the highest of compliments," he said before taking her hand and gently kissing the back of it.

"That's my mother you're flirting with," Sam reminded.

"This is an extremely beautiful lady I'm flirting with," Al corrected and graced Thelma with a handsome smile.

Thelma colored slightly at the attention being paid her by Al but she did nothing to dissuade it.

"Aa-ll," Sam again chastised.

"What," Al asked all innocence. "You're not worried about me and your mother are you?"

"She's my mother," Sam needlessly repeated.

"I think you're forgetting that I'm not that much older than Al is," Thelma playfully reminded her son.

"Yeah, Sam. Just think about it. If your mother and I really hit it off I could be your step-father."

Just as Al mentioned the word stepfather, Sam had taken a drink from the glass of cider and started to choke on it. Thelma reached over to pat him on the back cautioning him to be careful.

"Please tell me you're joking," Sam said once he'd finally caught his breath. He looked from his mother to Al and neither said anything. "You gotta be," he said again emphatically. He wasn't sure just what was the most unsettling. The thought of Al as his stepfather or the thought of his mother as Al's 6th wife. Finally, his dinner companions couldn't hold it in any longer and they started to laugh.

"Oh, you should have seen your face," Al said wiping away tears of mirth. "You looked like you wanted the floor to open up and swallow you."

"I knew you were just yanking my chain," Sam said. "Really, I was just…uh…playing along with you."

"I know you were," Thelma said as she patted his hand. "You did it so well we actually believed that the idea upset you….though I'm not sure why it should."

This time it was Thelma's turn to be chastised by her son.

"Really Sam, the Admiral is attractive, a true gentleman and a pleasure to be with. I'd think he'd be just the kind of man you'd want for your mother."

"Trust me, Mom, you don't know him like I do."

"Hey, I think I should be hurt by that," Al protested. "I guess I'll let it slide since it's Christmas Eve. After all, someday you could be my son."

Sam balled up his napkin and threw it across the table at Al where it bounced harmlessly off his chin to land on the table. "I'm not falling for it this time."

"Sometimes, Sam, you're just too easy."

Al got up from the table and started to picking up the dishes to take to the sink to be washed. Thelma put out a hand to stop him. "You cooked us this wonderful dinner so I'm not going to let you wash the dishes now. Sam and I will take care of that." She took the dish he held in his hand from him and pushed him to sit down once more.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to be doing a lot of KP duty since you two won't let me do any cooking," Sam grumbled. He got up from his place at the table and picked up his dish to carry over to the sink.

Mother and son had the dishes washed and put away in record time. Once the last dish was in the cupboard Thelma sent the two men off to the living room telling them she didn't need them underfoot while mixing up her eggnog.

"She really wants to make sure no one sees how she makes it," Sam told Al as they complied with Thelma's wishes. "It's some kind of deep dark family secret and even I don't know what she puts in it."

Once the eggnog had been made, Thelma brought it in on a tray along with a plate of the cookies they'd made earlier. She poured out a cup for each of them and then took hers over the piano setting it down on top before sitting on the bench. "What shall we start with?" she asked looking to the two men expectantly.

"Why don't you pick something," Sam said nudging Al's shoulder.

Al was at a loss and blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Uh, Jingle Bells."

"Jingle Bells it is," Thelma happily said and started playing it. When she started to sing, Sam immediately joined in, walking over to stand behind her. Al stood rooted to the spot on the other side of the room not sure what was expected of him.

When the first chorus had finished, Thelma stopped playing and turned to face Al with her hands folded primly in her lap. "Is there any reason why you're not joining us over here, Al?" she asked.

"Uh…well…" Al took a quick, bracing sip from the cup of eggnog as he searched for words to explain why he hadn't joined them. "Hey, this is really good," he said hoping to distract Thelma from her original question. "It's better than that stuff they sell already made in the stores."

Thelma threw an "I told you so" look over her shoulder at Sam who smiled sheepishly then she turned her attention back to Al. "Thank you, Al. That recipe's been in my family for many years. That doesn't answer my question, though. Why aren't you over here with us?"

"Well…I…uh," Al took a deep breath and let it out deciding to be honest with Thelma. "Sam said this singing around the piano was a Beckett family tradition. I didn't want to intrude," he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You wouldn't be intruding. You're part of this family now, you belong here." The sincerity of Sam's voice was unmistakable.

"He's right," Thelma chimed in echoing the sincerity in her son's voice. "You're last name might not be Beckett but you are a part of this family now."

Al looked down into the depths of his cup of eggnog and felt a stinging in his eyes at the warmth and welcome Sam and Thelma were extending to him. When he lifted his head, his eyes were shining with unshed tears. "I gotta warn you, I sing like hell so maybe you won't want me there."

"That's ok, I've heard you sing and it's no worse than when Tom would sing." Sam extended his hand in invitation to Al. "Join us."

Al gave a short nod and come over to stand just behind Thelma next to Sam. She gifted him with a soft smile before again turning to the piano and launching into another rendition of "Jingle Bells". This time Al heartily joined in.

Al soon lost track of time as they sang around the piano. He realized what was so special about this time. It didn't matter who sang well and who didn't, what mattered was that they joined their voices together as one.

Thelma had just finished playing the last notes of "The First Noel" when Sam nudged her from the bench and reached across to put his cup down near hers. "I want to try something" he said as he took the seat she'd vacated and started to take his arm out of the sling.

"Sam I don't think that's such a good idea," Al cautioned and Thelma joined in.

"Honey, you're not supposed to move your arm around yet. You might hurt yourself."

"I won't," Sam answered confidently. "It's just one song." He ran up and down the scales a few times getting accustomed to the feeling in his shoulder before he started to play in earnest. At first it was just a simple melody but as he played, it became more complex and although at its heart it was still recognizable as a very traditional Christmas carol, the sound of it was pure Sam. Soon Sam began to sing along with the piano, softly at first but with growing volume. Al caught his breath at the sound as Sam poured everything he had into the song skillfully weaving the song's French lyrics with the more familiar English. Next to him, Thelma looked down lovingly at her son, tears shining in her eyes.

Sam was lost in the music, oblivious to the two standing beside him. A look of joy and bliss came over his face as the song reached its crescendo and tapered off once more into the simple and beautiful melody. When he finished Sam sat quietly, his head bowed and his hands folded in his lap. A magical silence descended over the room and for a time the only noises heard was the crackle and hiss of the fire and soft breathing.

Sam eventually took a deep breath and let it out slowly raising his head. When he did, it seemed to break the magical trance in the room.

"That was beautiful, Sam." Thelma breathed. "'O Holy Night' has always been my favorite carol."

Sam turned on the bench to face his mother, love radiating from his eyes. "I know it is, Mom. That's why I always sing it for you." He winced slightly as he moved his shoulder. "I wasn't going to let this stop me."

Thelma cupped Sam's face in her palms, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Thank you, Sweetheart," she softly said. "That means so much to me." She straightened up but still kept her hands on his face. Her voice grew a bit firmer, a bit more motherly. "I don't ever want you to do anything for me that's going to cause you pain. I love you too much for you to be in any kind of pain."

"I know," Sam answered as softly as his mother had been speaking moments ago. "I love you Mama."

Thelma pulled Sam into an embrace, his head tucked safely beneath her chin. No more words were exchanged between them – there was no need for words to express what the two were feeling.

The embrace eventually ended and Sam leaned back away from his mother. She placed one more kiss on his forehead before she brought her hands from his face.

During the exchange between mother and son, Al had begun to feel awkward and intrusive. When Thelma let go of Sam's face he cleared his throat slightly bringing the attention of the other two to him. "You're Mom's right, Sam. That was really beautiful. You need to get that arm back in that sling though."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Can you give me a hand?"

Gently Al cradled Sam's arm putting it back into the support the sling offered it. "You want me to get you a painkiller?" he asked.

"No, not right now. Maybe later. I don't want to go to sleep yet and you know how they make me groggy." Sam looked over to his mother, the smile and twinkle in his eyes that of a little boy. "Can't go to sleep yet, right, Mom. We haven't opened any presents." He swung his attention back to Al explaining, "We'd always open one present on Christmas Eve before we went to bed. It was a tradition." He directed his gaze towards Thelma once more. "Can't break traditions can we, Mom?" he asked mischievously.

"No, I guess we can't," Thelma chuckled. "We'll open presents and then I want you to take one of your painkillers and go to bed and rest. It's been a full day."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam agreed. Sam got up from the piano bench, seated himself cross-legged on the floor by the tree, and looked up at Thelma expectantly.

Al couldn't help but to laugh affectionately at the picture Sam made. "And you said I'm worse than a little kid."

Al sank down to sit on the floor by Sam while Thelma pulled the piano bench closer and sat on it.

"So how do we figure out which present each one of us opens?" Al asked once everyone was comfortable.

"Well, Katie would always pick out what we'd open since she was the youngest," Sam supplied.

"I guess that means the job falls to you now, then since you're the youngest one here," Al pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess I am. How about instead of me picking them out, we each pick one out for the other two?"

"You just want to open two presents," Al accused.

"You still go first," Thelma told Sam agreeing with his idea.

Sam surveyed the gifts under the tree and pulled out two boxes. One he handed to Thelma and the other he handed to Al. "You go first, Mom," he said once they'd both accepted the gifts.

Thelma carefully pulled back the paper wrapped around the box. "I think you had a little help wrapping this," Thelma teased.

"Yeah, Al helped me wrap your gifts."

Thelma finished pulling the paper off the gift and folded it neatly. She took the cover off the box putting it atop the folded paper and pulled the tissue inside out of the way. "Oh, Sam, this beautiful," she exclaimed taking the creamy white sweater from the box and holding it up. It was knit from the softest cashmere with a row of tiny pearl buttons closing it down the front.

"It made me think of you when I saw it," Sam explained.

"I love it," Thelma said and bent down to kiss Sam on the cheek.

"Ok, your turn," Sam said turning to Al.

Al surveyed the box Sam had handled him carefully. The white paper sprigged with holly had been pulled awkwardly around the box and reminded him of something a child might have done. "I guess you decided to wrap this one yourself." As carefully as Thelma had, Al also pulled the paper from the box except this time Sam seemed to vibrate in place resisting the urge to tell Al to hurry. Sensing Sam's impatience, Al dragged out the unwrapping process just a little longer before pulling off the cover of the box and pushing the paper out of the way. He didn't say anything, just looked down at the contents of the box.

Al was silent for so long that Sam began to doubt the choice he'd made with the gift. "If you don't like it, I can take it back and get you something else," he said putting out a hand to take the box from Al.

"No, Kid, I like it a lot. It's perfect." He pulled the shirt that was in the box out and shook out the folds. It was a heavy silk in a gray so dark it was almost black. It was covered in letters in shades of blue, red and white that took away any somberness the shirt might have had otherwise.

"Really?" Sam asked eager for reassurance that his friend truly did like the gift.

"Yeah, really." Al said giving the reassurance Sam was looking for. "It's the kind of shirt I'd pick out for myself." Al leaned over and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "You out did yourself, Kid."

Sam ducked his head and smiled shyly at the praise Al had given him.

"It's your turn now," Thelma told Al once he'd folded the shirt back into the box.

As Sam had done, Al gave the gifts under the tree careful consideration before selecting two. The larger box he handed to Sam and the smaller one to Thelma. At Al's indication, Thelma pulled the paper back from the box. Once the paper had been neatly folded to the side, Thelma raised up the hinged lid of the box. "Oh, Al, this is beautiful," she breathed as she turned the small box so that Sam could see it.

Nestled on a bed of scarlet velvet was a cameo broach. Its background was jet-black set in gold filigree with an ivory rose in relief on it.

"I'm glad you like it, Ma'am. I was hoping you would."

Thelma got up from the piano bench and leaned to kiss Al on the cheek in thanks for the gift. When she did, he blushed.

Once Thelma had sat back down, Al cleared his throat once to cover his embarrassment. "It's you turn now," he said tapping on the box in Sam's lap.

Unlike his mother and friend, Sam tore into the paper like a small boy and pulled back the cover on the box. When he saw what was contained inside his eyes first widened with surprise and then crinkled with merriment as he started to laugh. He pulled out the heavy, navy blue, zip-front sweatshirt and held it up for Thelma to see. "Gee, how'd you know I needed one?" he asked barely containing his laughter as his mother and Al joined in.

Once the laughter died down, Al took the sweatshirt from Sam's hand, folded it back up in the box, and put it back under the tree with the other gifts that had been opened.

"Ok, Mom, now it's your turn."

Without any hesitation, Thelma pulled two boxes from under the tree handing one to Sam and one to Al. "Open them together."

By an unspoken compromise, Sam pulled the paper from his less eagerly and Al didn't linger on his as long so they finished at the same time. Sam looked at the contents of his box and then leaned over to Al's. "Now if that doesn't say welcome to the family, I don't know what does."

Al glanced quickly to see what was in Sam's box before looking back down to his puzzled. Thelma came to the rescue and explained his puzzlement away. "I always have new pajamas for the kids every year. It just felt right getting them for you."

Al fingered the pajamas in the box. "I don't know what to say. Somehow thank you doesn't seem to be enough."

"You don't have to say anything, Al. Just tell me you like them."

Al pulled the top of the pajamas from the box and shook out the folds. They were a deep red silk trimmed with black piping. "They're perfect," he announced.

"Good," Thelma said with satisfaction. "You didn't strike me as the flannel type like Sam is." She rested a gentle hand on Sam's head. "Do you like your's, honey."

"Yeah, Mom," Sam answered as he ran a hand over the deep green flannel. "They're perfect."

With the gifts opened, Thelma collected the remains of the wrapping paper to throw out while Sam and Al headed for the couches on the opposite end of the room. They brought their cups with them, refilling them from the pitcher of eggnog on the coffee table.

"You're supposed to take your pain pills and go to bed now," Thelma reminded Sam as she walked by.

"I will, Mom. I just wanted to have some more eggnog and some cookies."

Sam delayed taking the Percoset as long as he could, enjoying the time to just sit peacefully with those dear to him. The three sat sipping on eggnog and nibbling at the cookies. Little conversation passed between them now as they were all content to bask in the warmth and peace of just being together. The fire continued to add its cheery glow to one end of the room while the tree merrily bathed the other end it's a multitude of colors.

Eventually, Sam couldn't ignore the nagging ache in his shoulder anymore and gave in and took one of the Percosets. Knowing from experience that it wouldn't take long for the grogginess they caused to set in, he bid his mother and Al goodnight and retired to his bedroom. Al followed him into the room a short time later but backed out quietly when he saw that Sam was already under the covers and sleeping. He didn't think it would hurt the Kid too much to go one night without the immobilizer on.

He rejoined Thelma in the living room and while she cleaned up the remains from the eggnog and cookies, he banked the fire and turned out the Christmas lights. Once everything was set, they both retired to their rooms for the night – Thelma to the guest bedroom and Al to the pullout couch in Sam's office.

As he slipped between the covers, Al reflected on the night that had just passed. There had been difficult, awkward moments but mostly the night had been filled with the warmth of family and friends. He was looking forward to the next day and sharing more of the Beckett family's Christmas traditions.


	13. December 25, 1987

**Friday, December 25, 2006**

When Sam woke up he lay very still his bed listening. It wasn't a particular sound that he was hearing but rather a lack of sound. There was a hush in the room that he couldn't quite place. It was still quite early, too early to be getting out of bed he decided. After all, he reasoned, what was wrong with sleeping in on Christmas day. He snuggled back down into his pillows and let his eyes drift shut. He didn't stay that way for long before he pushed himself up. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't sleep in.

Climbing out of bed, he pulled up the shades over the windows behind his bed and the answer to the hushed sound revealed itself. During the night, the light snow had grown heavier blanketing everything in a layer of white that seemed to absorb sound and create peacefulness. The clouds that had brought the snow had already cleared out and the sun was just rising. Sam caught his breath as the field of snow outside of his window was painted in shades of pinks and golds as the light of the rising sun touched it.

He went into his closet and pulled on a pair of boots and then his heavy terrycloth robe. Pushing open the sliding door in the sitting area, he stepped out on the fresh, unbroken snow that crunched softly beneath his feet. He breathed in deeply of the fresh, cold air and looked out at the magnificence of the golden sunrise. Words escaped him to describe the majesty of the morning and he breathed out a low "oh boy."

He longed go back and in the house and wake his mother and Al so that they could join him in partaking of the glory of nature but he knew if he did by the time they made it back outside it would be too late. He stood in silence as the sun completed its breach of the horizon. When he began to feel light-headed, he drew in a deep breath, only then realizing he'd been holding his breath at the scene he'd witnessed. With the sun now up, the world around him lost the glory and majesty that the rays of the rising sun had painted them with and became again simple fields of white snow.

With the return of normalcy, Sam felt the cold of the day more fiercely than he had when he'd first walked out the door and hurried back into the warmth of his bedroom. He toed off his boots leaving them by the door to dry and returned his robe to the hook on the back of the bathroom door. He slipped silently from his bedroom with the intent of having a pot of coffee ready by the time Al and his mother were up.

When he arrived in the kitchen, he wasn't surprised to see that his mother was already up and just finishing turning on the coffeemaker. He knew it would have been a long shot, at best, that he'd beat her to it.

"Merry Christmas, Mom," he greeted her wrapping her in a hug from behind.

"Merry Christmas, Sweetie," she returned lifting her face for the kiss Sam dropped down on her cheek. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby," he cheerfully answered.

"Well, you're certainly chipper this morning."

"I was outside watching the sunrise. It was amazing. I don't think I've ever seen one that beautiful." His smiled turned dreamy as he was still caught up in the magic of the sunrise.

"You were outside without a coat?" Thelma questioned with an arched eyebrow.

"I came in as soon as I was cold."

Thelma ruffled his hair affectionately. "I'm sure you did."

"It sure was something to see. I wanted to get you and Al but knew it would be done by the time we got back outside."

"I was able to see it through the window here. It was pretty spectacular," Thelma agreed. "Speaking of Al, I'm going to assume he likes to sleep in."

"If he can, you bet." Sam smiled ruefully remembering the rather rude and painful greeting he got last time he attempted to wake Al early. "If you know what's good for you, you won't try to wake him up before he'd ready. It's kind of like getting a bear out of hibernation before spring."

"Hey, who you calling a bear?" Al asked coming up behind Sam. He had managed to slip quietly into the room without mother or son being aware of his presence.

"You," Sam said turning around to face Al. "You're not exactly pleasant when you get woken up."

"Yeah, well, I need my beauty sleep, you know."

"Because it's Christmas, I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," Sam answered with an innocent smile. "So, now that we're all up do we get to open presents?"

"Are you sure you're 34 and not 4?" Al asked.

"He was always like this," Thelma informed Al. "Every year as soon as he realized what Christmas was all about he'd be the first one out of bed and waking everyone else up. Today just might be the first day that I actually made it out of bed before him."

"Well, if it's all the same to you, Kid, I'd rather have a cup of coffee first."

"That's sounds like a splendid idea," Thelma said as she started to pour from the freshly brewed pot.

Sam managed to get through the time it took them to drink their coffee with a minimum of agitation. As soon as the last cup was drained, he was off like a shot to the living room.

"We better go with him," Al commented dryly. "He's liable to open up everything if we leave him alone for too long."

Sam was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the same spot that he'd been in the previous night. He'd turned on the lights on the tree and it glowed cheerfully. Al and Thelma both resumed the same seats they'd occupied the night before. They took turns exchanging gifts, each having bought several for the others. Some of the gifts were serious and some of them were clearly gag gifts.

Al had given Sam a CD copy of the music from "Man of LaMancha". "You got a lot of Don Quixote in you," he'd said as Sam opened the gift.

There'd been confusion when Sam and Al had both simultaneously opened similar boxes from Thelma. They'd both tried to school their faces to delight at the sight of the sweaters carefully wrapped within each box but it had been difficult. Sensing that the two of them were trying to put on a good face, Thelma looked carefully in each box before switching them around. Sam breathed a sigh of relief with the knowledge that the simple, sky blue sweater was for him and the wildly patterned one had been meant for Al.

Sam had watched with shy anticipation when Al had opened the box with the bolo tie he'd bought. He hadn't been sure about it but something had told him that it was something Al would appreciate. He'd been relieved when Al had expressed his delight in it.

Finally, they reached the last gifts. As Thelma handed her last gift for Sam to him, she slipped down to sit by him on floor putting her arm around his shoulders. Sensing the change in his mother's demeanor, he carefully pulled the paper back from the gift instead of ripping it off as he had with the others. Inside was a classically elegant frame but it wasn't the frame that took his breath away but, rather, the photograph it contained. "That's Dad," he whispered running his index finger over the face of his father. "and….me?" he questioned looking to his mother for confirmation.

Thelma nodded her head in agreement. "I took that when you were two years old. You father was reading 'The Call of the Wild' to you."

Sam's brow knit in confusion as he again brushed his hand over the photo. "How come I've never seen it before?"

"Because, I carry the original of it in my purse. I have since the day it came back from being developed. I had this copy of it made for you and framed it. I thought it was something you'd like to keep."

Sam nodded his head in agreement but wasn't able to speak through the tears he could feel welling up. Impatiently, he brushed them away and pulled Thelma in for a tight hug. "Thank you, Mama," he forced out in a strained voice. He held onto her for dear life not wanting to let go.

Al picked the framed photograph up off of Sam's lap to see it. It was the photo he'd suspected. He looked down at the old black and white photo and saw a man who looked so much like Sam sitting in a rocking chair. In his lap was a small boy maybe two or three years old. The child clutched a teddy bear in one hand and the thumb of the other hand was firmly in his mouth. The wide eyes gazed with wonder at the book the older man held. It was the same photo that Thelma had shown him when Sam had been in the hospital.

Eventually Sam released his mother. "That's my Dad," he said as he brushed the tears from his eyes.

"You look just like him," Al told him as he handed the picture back.

"You think?' Sam questioned as he reverently took the picture back in his hands.

"Yeah, I do."

"He'd be so proud of you, Sammy," Thelma told him. She pulled him into sideways embrace, his head falling on her shoulder. She angled her face down to kiss him on the temple and rocked him slightly. "So proud of you," she repeated again.

Sam straightened up from his mother and reached under the tree for a small, neatly wrapped box. Al recognized it as the one Sam had originally asked him to wrap for him. Sam didn't say anything, just held it out to his mother.

Thelma took the box from him, peeled off the wrapping paper and opened the small jeweler's box within. It contained an oval-shaped gold locket. Flowers had been etched into the front of it. Thelma lifted the delicate piece of jewelry from the box and unclasped it. She gasped when she saw the pictures it contained, one hand flying up to cover her mouth. "Oh, Sam," she said before gathering him to her once again.

Al sat silently by not wanting to intrude on the moment. Eventually, Thelma released Sam and he sat up from her. "Where ever did you get the pictures?" she asked.

"When I got to MIT and opened my suitcase they were both there. I always thought you put them in there for me."

"No, not me," Thelma denied. "It must have been your father."

Wordlessly, Sam climbed to his feet and disappeared into his bedroom. He reappeared a few moments later. In his hand he carried something wrapped in white cloth. "That wasn't all he put in there," he said with a sad smile and handed the small bundle to Thelma.

The white cloth turned out to be a handkerchief with a monogrammed "B" in one corner. "This is one of Daddy's handkerchiefs," Thelma said when she saw it.

Sam nodded his agreement. "Open it up."

Carefully Thelma folded back the folds of cloth. Tucked inside was a small plastic bag that contained a handful of dirt. Thelma fingered the bag and looked at Sam questioningly.

"The day before I left for Cambridge I went for a walk with Dad. He put that dirt in my hand so I wouldn't forget home and I put it in my suitcase so I could take a little bit of home with me to school. When I unpacked, it was wrapped in Dad's handkerchief and the two pictures were underneath it. I always thought you'd done it."

Thelma reverently folded the handkerchief back around the bag of soil and handed it back to Sam. "You're father might not have always had the words to tell us how he felt but he always made sure we knew. You keep that in a safe place."

Sam took the small bundle back, nodding his agreement with his mother's words. He again wordless got to his feet to return the bag of soil to its place in his room. While he was out of the room, Thelma handed the locket to Al to see. He'd sat as a silent witness their memories.

He took the locket from her and looked down at the two pictures. On the left side there was photo of a young couple on their wedding day – both of them smiling at the lives they were just beginning. There was no mistaking that the woman was a younger Thelma Beckett and the man bore a strong resemblance to Sam. On the right was a photo of three children that Al guess was the Beckett children. As he snapped the locket closed he caught sight of the engraving on the back of it. It simply said, "I love you, Mama. Sam."

Al handed the locket to Sam when he came back in the room. He took it and gently clasped it around his mother's neck before again settling in his place on the floor. He quickly grabbed the large box under the tree and pushed it into Al's hands. "I hope it's something you can use…that you like," he quickly said.

Curious, Al pulled the wrappings from the gift. Inside was a humidor of rich mahogany. A brass plaque secured to the center of the cover bore his initials in flowing script. He lifted the lid on it noting how it smoothly rose on the polished brass piano hinges to reveal the cedar lined interior. "Wow," Al said as he gently put the cover back down and rubbed his hand over the smooth, glossy wood. "You picked this out by yourself."

Sam's eyes were wide and serious as he nodded his head.

"This is great, Sam. I don't know what to say." Al knew how Sam felt about his smoking, how often he'd tried to convince him to give up the cigars. That Sam would give him the humidor, despite those feelings, spoke volumes to Al. He was under no illusion that this meant the kid would stop trying to talk him out of the habit but it meant that Sam accepted him for everything that he was. It said a lot for their friendship and the man that Sam was.

"I'm glad you like," Sam said softly. "I wasn't sure ..."

"Like it," Al crowed, "this is one of the best gifts anyone's ever given me. Thank you. Ok, it's my turn now." He selected one of the remaining boxes from under the tree and handed it to Sam. He didn't bother to stifle his laughter as Sam ripped into the paper as any child on Christmas day would.

"Wow!" Sam said unconsciously echoing Al's sentiment when the box was opened to reveal the sleek black watch. "This is amazing, Al."

"There's in inscription on the back," Al pointed out.

Sam pulled the watch from its box and turned it over to read what had been inscribed on the back – "time is fleeting – friends are forever". Sam handed the watch to his mother as for the second time that morning he found his voice choked off by tears. He pulled Al into a hug which the older man heartily returned.

Thelma handed the watch back to Sam when he released Al and he carefully placed it back in its box.

"Well, I guess that just leave us," Al said looking over to Thelma. The two them started to argue over who was going to open their gift first. Sam finally settled it by reaching under the tree for the last two gifts. Reading the names on each, he handed one to Al and the other to Thelma.

"Open them together," he said with finality.

They did as Sam bid, pulling the paper from the respective gifts at the same time. When Al saw what Thelma had given him he began to laugh softly. Looking down at her gift, Thelma also began to as well.

"What? What's so funny?" Sam asked obviously out of the loop of what was happening.

In answer, both of them turned the gifts so that Sam could what it was. Looking from one to the other, he understood why they were laughing and joined in. They had both given the other a framed picture. The photo that Al held was of him and Sam and the one that Thelma held was of her and Sam. Both of the photos had been taken at the restaurant they'd gone to in Durango to celebrate Sam's release from the hospital.

When Al had retrieved the belongings they'd left on the mountain, one of the items was Sam's 35mm camera. They'd been surprised that it had still worked and it had found its way to the celebratory dinner. With the backdrop of the breathtaking view of the Rockies the wide windows of the restaurant offered, they'd taken pictures together. Al had made sure to send a copy of them to Thelma when he'd had them developed and they'd both hit on the idea of gifting each other with the framed photos.

"Well, you know what they say," Al declared when the laughter ended.

"No, Al what do they say?" Sam deadpanned.

"Great minds think alike."

With all of the gifts opened, they gathered all the torn wrapping paper into a pile and put it into a large green bag. With the living room set to rights once more, Thelma sent the two men off to their respective rooms to get dressed for the day while she made them all breakfast. When they returned to the kitchen, they were treated to her vanilla-flavored French toast that Sam informed Al was only ever made on Christmas morning. As soon as breakfast was eaten and cleaned up, Thelma kicked them both out of the kitchen so that she could start preparations for their Christmas dinner. "I don't care what the two of you do," she said as she pushed them out the door, "just stay out of the kitchen and don't get underfoot."

"Yes, Ma'am," they both meekly promised allowing her to push them out.

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While Thelma busied herself in the kitchen with dinner preparations, Sam and Al donned their coats to go outside for a walk. Since they were outside of the walls of Sam's house, Al felt comfortable drawing a cigar out of his breast pocket and lighting it up. He took care, though, to keep it angled away from Sam so that he wouldn't breathe in the smoke as well.

One of the advantages of where Sam's house was located was that it was out, away from the town proper. There were very few neighbors and they weren't close by. Despite the bright sun that shone down, the air still held an unusual chill to it. The snow that fell during the night would probably last at least through Christmas day before melting away.

Sam and Al walked along through the unbroken snow. They could have chosen to walk along the road where a plow had come by clearing away the snow but chose, instead, to break their own path. Al estimated that there was about six inches of the white stuff that had fallen and it crunched softly under their shoes as the walked along it was the only sound heard as they walked along in silence.

Al had always admired Sam for his ability to know when to talk, when to listen, and when to let silence speak. Some people might have felt the need to fill the silence of the day with endless chatter but not Sam.

They walked along in companionable silence that Al eventually broke. "Was Christmas morning always like that when you were growing up," he asked softly in deference to the silence around them.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked curiously.

"I mean all the presents and the big breakfast and stuff? Was it like that all the time."

Sam smiled ruefully and they walked several more paces before he stopped to face Al and answer him. "Most times it was like that. Mom and Dad always tried to make sure Santa was generous. Some years it was tough for them but we never knew it at the time. Whenever money was tight, they were really good at keeping it hidden from us. It wasn't just all the presents that made it special. It was being together and being a family. I don't think we ever really realized that until we didn't have it anymore."

Sam started to walk again, this time angling toward the road to walk through the plowed area. "How about you? What was it like for you?"

Al stuffed his hands in his pockets and put his head down out of the wind as the walked. "Nothing like what you had as a kid. The nuns would try to make sure there was a least one present for each one of us but it was hard for them. They'd try to give us something special for dinner, too. Otherwise, it was pretty much a day like any other." He let out a small laugh but there was no humor to it. "You know, as much as Christmas sucked in the orphanage, sometimes I think it was better then when I was home."

Sam stopped again and faced Al. He put out his hand to touch the older man's shoulder but instead dropped it down to his side. "I wish there was some way to change all that for you, Al. No kid should miss out on Christmas. It's just not right."

Al didn't show Sam's hesitance and reached out a hand to squeeze the back of the younger man's neck. "Hey, this is supposed to be a day to be happy, not for you to feel bad because I had it tough as a kid." He shook Sam slightly when he got to reaction from him. "Besides, you and your mom have done a hell of a job giving me all that this year. It wouldn't have meant anything any other year but this year…this year I have a family to be with so it means a whole lot."

Sam raised his gaze from where he'd been studying his shoes. A shy, half-smile quirked his lips. "Yeah, it is about family, isn't it?"

Al slung a companionable arm around Sam's shoulders leading him once more up the road. "So what time's dinner anyway?"

"It's at two… always has been," Sam answered leaning into the warmth provided by his friend as they walked. He tried to suppress a shiver but wasn't successful nor was he successful at suppressing the sneeze that burst from him.

"I don't think it's a good idea for us to stay out here until then," Al decided turning to head back to the house. He could feel Sam shivering in the cold and the sneeze reminded him that the younger man wasn't 100 healthy right now. "We'll build up the fire and sit around lazy until it's time to eat."

"Sounds like an idea," Sam said eyeing the clouds he could see starting to build up on the horizon. "Looks like we might be in for some more weather today."

Al also eyed the clouds in the distance. "Yeah, it does. I thought snow in Socorro was supposed to be rare."

"That doesn't mean it doesn't come," Sam answered and faster than Al would have thought possible, he slipped from under the arm around his shoulders and scooped a handful of snow up. Patting it into a ball he threw it at Al and laughed merrily when it splattered across the shoulder of his coat.

"Oh, you think you're funny, do ya?" Al questioned mock threateningly. "I'll have you know I was a champion snowballer when I was in the orphanage. You're in for it now."

While Al bent down to scoop up snow, Sam started to run away from him hoping to dodge the snowy missile. He wasn't successful as it hit him on the back of the head. The two spent the rest of the walk back to the house pelting each other with snowballs.

When they got back to the door of the house, they were both liberally sprinkled with snow. Sam's cheeks were a rosy red both from the cold and from the laughing and running around he'd done. They were both still laughing merrily when they came in the house.

"Mom, we're back," Sam called out while letting Al help him from his coat and hang the two of them in the closet.

Thelma came to the door of the living room as they came in from the foyer. "Whatever were the two of you doing out there?" she asked when she saw the state they were in.

"Just taking a walk," Sam replied innocently while Al snickered softly behind him.

"I'm sure," Thelma said not believing him for an instant. "I thought you might be cold when you got back so I made you some hot chocolate. I'll bring it in."

"You don't have to, Mom, we can go get it."

Thelma stood in the doorway, hands on hips, and blocked the way. "I don't remember telling you that you could go in that kitchen yet, did I?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Well then, the two of you go sit down and I'll bring the hot chocolate in."

They made themselves comfortable on the couches and waited for the promised hot chocolate. The fire was still burning merrily in the fireplace and it helped to warm them.

Thelma brought in a tray with two mugs on it. In each of the mugs a candy cane hung over the side. A plate of the decorated Christmas cookies accompanied the mugs. "You two just sit in here and drink this and warm up and I'll call you when dinner's ready." She handed them each one of the warm mugs and then left the room.

"You sure she didn't spend sometime in the Navy," Al asked Sam after Thelma had left.

"Nope, but you'd think she did, wouldn't you?"

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The mugs of hot chocolate had been drained and the plate of cookies was empty except for a few stray crumbs. Sam and Al had settled back watching the Sun Bowl when Thelma came into the living room. "Dinner will be ready shortly if you want to wash up and get changed," she said before disappearing down the hall in the direction of her room.

"Changed?" Al asked looking over to Sam.

"I think she means me," Sam said getting up from the couch. Al had chosen to dress in a deep maroon colored suite with an iridescent shirt of the same color under it. A thin silver tie completed the look. By comparison, Sam had on a well-worn pair of jeans and red and black plaid flannel shirt. Though Al was certainly dressed for dinner, Sam was not.

While Sam went off to his room to change, Al continued to watch the game until he heard Sam calling to him from the bedroom. Switching off the TV, he went to see what Sam needed.

When Al got in the room, he found Sam sitting on his bed. He'd changed into a pair of charcoal gray dress pants and a white dress shirt. In his hand he held a sweater a shade darker than his pants. "I'm not having much luck with this by myself," he said holding the sweater out to Al. "You mind giving me a hand."

Al took the sweater from Sam and looked at it dubiously. "You sure about this? Wouldn't you be more comfortable without it?"

"It's either that or help me get on a tie and I wear a jacket instead."

Al neatly folded the sweater and put it on the end of the bed. "I think you're better off skipping the sweater and just wearing a tie and jacket instead." He went into Sam's closet coming out with a tie and jacket that would match what he already had on. Sam sat patiently on the bed while Al tied the tie for him, pulling the knot up snugly. Once his jacket and sling were on and he deemed himself suitable to pass his mother's inspection for Christmas dinner, he and Al made there way to the kitchen.

Thelma was already there when they arrived. She'd changed into the same deep green dress she'd worn the night before. The table was once more neatly set and again it took Sam by surprise. "This is Grandma's," he said fingering the heavy cream-colored lace tablecloth.

"It is," Thelma answered looking up from where she was putting the finishing touches on a serving dish. "You're sister sent it with me for us to use today."

To Al's unspoken question Sam ventured to explain, "This belonged to my grandmother – my father's mother. We'd use on the table every year at Christmas – Grandma's tablecloth for Christmas and Nana's for Thanksgiving. It went to Katie when she passed away."

"It looks old," Al said sitting at his place.

"It is," Thelma answered coming over to the table. She put the serving platter with the roast beef she was carrying down in the center of the table. It was surrounded by smaller bowls of vegetables. "It originally belonged to John's great-grandmother. She passed it down to her granddaughter and then Nettie passed it down to Katie. I expect someday day Katie will have a granddaughter to pass it down to." Thelma took her place between Al and Sam and reached out to take both of their hands. "Will you say the blessing, Sam?" she asked.

Sam and Thelma bowed their heads. Al, at first unsure, soon followed suit.

"Bless us, O Lord! and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord." At the end of the familiar prayer, Sam rushed out "Thank you for bringing us together at this table as family to share this day."

"Amen." Thelma intoned and Al echoed her is a lower voice.

Once the blessing had been said, Thelma pushed the platter with the roast toward Al. "Normally I'd ask Sam to carve the roast since he is the man of the house but I think that would be a little tough for him so will you do us the honor."

"It would be my honor," he responded picking up the serving fork and carving knife. Once he'd placed slices of the roast on their plates, they began to pass around the bowls of vegetables, each taking his or her share of them.

"Boy, this all looks and smells so good," Al commented once he'd filled his plate.

"Well, there's plenty here so don't be shy," Thelma told him. "Sam, don't tell me that's all you're going to eat."

"No, Ma'am," Sam responded seriously. "This is just for starters. You know how much I love your Christmas dinners."

"So much for there being plenty," Al quipped. "If he's starving like he usually is the two of us better hang on to what we have now or he'll be taking that soon."

Thelma laughed at the way Al teased Sam. She could tell by the easy way they both exchanged the teasing banter that it was a part of their everyday lives and was as natural to them as breathing. As the meal proceeded, they continued to tease each other back and forth while also exchanging their ideas for the future of the project. They didn't get into specifics because of the top-secret nature of it, but it was enough for Thelma to know that it would keep her son occupied and busy for a long time to come. Somehow, that comforted her in an odd way because she knew that as long as they were both involved in the project Sam would have Al looking out for him and drawing him out into the world when he'd rather retreat into his labs.

As the meal neared its end, Al lifted up his glass of sparkling cider. "I'd like to propose a toast," he said.

Thelma and Sam put down their forks and picked up their glasses as well.

"I never really knew what it was like to have a real family Christmas. Life always moved me away from any of that and I always thought I wasn't missing much. I've learned different this year, though. This time life moved me in the direction of sharing this holiday with the two of you and you've taken me in as a member of the family." Al directed his attention to Thelma. "Mrs. Beckett I know I haven't been your first choice as a friend for your son." When Thelma opened her mouth to protest Al held up his hand and cut her off. "Don't deny it. If I were in your shoes I wouldn't have picked me either. I thank you, though, for eventually accepting me as a part of Sam's life. Not only that, but for welcoming me into a part of your own life. I never really had the experience of what a mother could be like; mine walked out when I was still young. You've shown me what a good and kind mother is."

Thelma brushed the tears from her eyes and leaned over to kiss Al on the cheek. When she'd sat back, Al switched his attention to Sam. "Sam, I really don't know what to say, Kid. You've given me so much more than I could have asked for – so much more than you probably should have. You took a washed-up, drunken sailor and showed him what the real meaning of friendship is. You've become the dearest friend I will ever have and the little brother I always wanted." Al raised his glass a little higher, his gaze taking in both Sam and Thelma. "To family."

"To family," they echoed back before clinking their glasses together and drinking.

"That was beautiful, Al," Thelma told him when they were done drinking.

Sam didn't say anything right away looking down at his plate and running a fingertip along the edge of his glass. When he did raise his gaze to Al, he spoke softly and from the heart. "You may not know this, Al, but you've given me a lot more than I could ever give you. You've taught me that it's ok to care about someone, that that doesn't mean they're going to leave." He took a deep breath before forging on. "You're one of the few people who not only didn't laugh at me when I told you my dreams but you believed in them…in me. I don't know if you know how much that means to me. When everyone else wants to lock me up in a padded room with the rest of the Looney Tunes, you're the one who's stood by me and told the world that they're wrong and I can make my dreams a reality. Thank you for that."

"Those aren't just pipe dreams you have there, Kid. I may not completely understand all that you sat and figured but I know it's solid work you've done and with a little hard work we can make it a reality. Besides," Al continued, a twinkle in his eye, "how many times do I have to keep telling you, you're not a Looney Tune. You're more of a Merry Melody."

For just a moment, silence reigned around the table until first Sam and then Al and Thelma started to laugh.

"Who's ready for dessert?" Thelma asked once the laughter had died down.

Both Sam and Al quickly answered in the affirmative and started to clear the table. The three worked together until the table was cleared of their dinner and set for dessert. Through it all they kept laughing, talking, and teasing each other.

Outside clouds moved in again to drop more of the rarely seen snow as the temperature dropped further. For the three inside there was only the warmth of family and friends sharing a holiday and making memories to last.


End file.
